


Stray

by SinningShipper



Category: Joker Game (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, M/M, Mentions of Death, Romance, Spoilers for Episode 11, fake death, the funeral was a ruse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-07-15 02:43:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7203029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinningShipper/pseuds/SinningShipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cats have nine lives. It’s a fact Sakuma had completely forgotten, until Miyoshi breaks into his home one year after Sakuma had witnessed his funeral.</p><p>They also come and go as they please, much to Sakuma’s chagrin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There were no flowers on the grave.

Maybe he should have been mad, but Sakuma had expected it.

They were spies. They hadn’t even know each other’s real names. A death was expected. They must have gotten over it months ago.

Sakuma was the one at fault, really. First in the Army and then a spy... of all of them _he_ should have been the one to take a death well.

But the one to die had been Miyoshi, and Sakuma–

He buried those thoughts, focused on the grief and not _why_ he was still feeling it, after all this time.

He placed the fresh flowers he bought on the grave.

He said nothing, what was there to say?

So he left.

*

_He arrives at his own grave. A morbid curiosity of his, and a risky one. But he does it nonetheless._

_There are flowers on it. Fresh._

_He hadn’t expected that. It’s been a year, after all._

_He’s not sure how to feel._

*

Sakuma could have passed by D-Agency, could have entered and greeted those that had, for a brief time, been his colleagues.

He didn’t.

Instead he took the first train back to his home, in the north of the country.

It was a long journey, but he tried not to sleep. He might dream of Miyoshi; of how pale he’d been, lying in that coffin, clothing still caked in his own blood...

*

He lived in a secluded village, now. He liked it like that; the less news of the world, especially the war, the better.

The villagers were nice, and certainly much more sympathetic to a man of his stature and age not in the army then he’d have expected.

Then again, Lt. Col. Yuuki had forged discharge papers due to internal injury for him. A generosity Sakuma hadn’t foreseen when he’d resigned from D-Agency, along with the small income he'd been given.

Perhaps, it was the man’s way to atone.

Regardless, he had a peaceful life now. Good neighbors, a good home. A stable job that he didn’t really need but took on to pass the time.

And yet, the sorrow was still there. It’d been buried before, but now it engulfed him again.

*

“You went to visit a grave,” the proprietress of the restaurant he worked in said.

Sakuma nearly dropped the empty plates he was carrying, but didn't deny it. “How did you know, ma’am?”

“Death reaches even here, you know. You’ve been out of sorts since you returned from your trip, and I recognize that look in your eyes. I’ve seen it in others, in myself and in young people coming from the war. Was it someone very dear to you?”

“...I don’t know.”

“You left to visit this one person's anniversary and you don’t know?” Her voice was kind, despite the humor.

Sakuma frowned. “I suppose. It’s just...I don't know why. They shouldn't have been.”

Her smile was pitying now. “Go home dear. And take the day off tomorrow.”

“That isn’t–”

“It’s been a week. You need to rest to get over this. I’ll get by without you, now go.”

*

Sakuma laid down on his porch overlooking his bare garden. He didn’t own a television, and his mind was too scattered to read a book.

A stray ran past. He’d considered keeping a cat, initially. But they reminded him too much of Miyoshi, with their superior air, hidden claws and independence.

So he stared at nothing, waiting for sleep to claim him. Eventually it did.

*

“Why do you still mourn? Fool, you should have moved on,” a voice said far away. It sounded pained.

Sakuma was quickly becoming awake...

“You’ll catch a cold, sleeping outside in this weather,” the voice said again, tone neutral now. It was familiar, yet Sakuma couldn’t quite place it.

He was now fully alert, but had enough training to not move a muscle, retaining his sleeping position on the porch.

More importantly, why was someone in his house? He’d given no one a key. Worse, how had he not noticed their presence until they spoke? Even if time had gone by, the instincts he’d learned in the Army and honed in D-Agency should not have left him completely. Was he that out of sorts?

“I know you’re awake,” the voice said again. This time, with a tinge of amusement. Again it rang a bell of recognition, but the only person Sakuma could think of was–

He opened his eyes and looked up.

It was dark now, and with only the moonlight to illuminate them, the figure was shrouded in almost complete darkness. Nonetheless, between the voice and silhouette, Sakuma recognized him.

Miyoshi was sitting on the porch, next to his head.

Sakuma sighed and closed his eyes again, turning sideways to rest his head on his hands. _It’s a dream_.

And a strange one, at that. His dreams always played out like memories, or sequences.

“That’s quite the disappointing reaction.”

Eyes still closed, Sakuma murmured. “I’m not so gone that I can’t distinguish a hallucination from reality.”

“Ah. I suppose I can understand that logic. However…”

Hands pushed him on his back and gently held his head.

Sakuma opened his eyes just in time to see the apparition looking down at him with–

–he couldn’t decipher what the expression was trying to convey.

And then it leaned down and brought their lips together.

 _Is this going to be that kind of dream?_ He hadn't had those since Miyoshi had died.

And then the mouth on his grabbed his bottom lips and bit, hard.

The pain and the metallic taste of blood were all too real.

_Oh._

He sat up, eyes wide and heart racing and _stared_.

Miyoshi licked his own lips clean of blood with a triumphant look.

“Do you still think I’m a dream, _Lieutenant_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Edit: Some gorgeous fanart of the last scene [here.](https://sinningshipper.tumblr.com/post/146630516509/huntee-art-do-you-still-think-im-a-dream)
> 
> *I'm aware that in the episode, Miyoshi wasn't buried in Japan. I assure you that the grave, and certain comments by Sakuma, aren't plotholes and will be explained.
> 
> *Needless to say, I disliked episode 11. Rather than pretend it never happened, I decided to attempt to...interpret it differently. Hopefully, I won't fail to make it believable.
> 
> *Unlike the other fic, this was a spur of the moment one. As such, I'm slightly worried, but hope it's also decent, both in writing and characterization.
> 
> *Speaking of which, this isn't tied to High Card at all.


	2. Chapter 2

“Do you still think I’m a dream, _Lieutenant_?”

 _Maybe_ , Sakuma’s mind supplied even as it tried to wrap itself around the absurd situation. There were so many questions coming to him, so he focused on the most pressing one.

“ _How?!_ ” he choked out as his finger gingerly checked his bottom lip; it would swell.

“Through the gate. Really, Lieutenant, the gate is small enough to jump over, but the lock was so easy to pick it wasn’t even necessary, you should take–”

Real or not, it was definitely Miyoshi.

“ _You know that’s not what I meant_ ,” Sakuma ground out and reached out to grab his shoulder, half to shake him, half to just feel if he truly was flesh and bones.

Miyoshi slapped his hand away sharply before he could grab hold of anything.

“Come now,” Miyoshi said and though Sakuma couldn’t see his expression properly, he could hear the usual light but mocking mirth in his voice, “that wouldn’t be interesting. You should use your head to figure it out.”

Sakuma couldn’t muster much anger at that. He was still trying to settle his feelings about thise sudden reappearance, and it was just like Miyoshi, to force him to think first before obliging him with an explanation.

Sighing, he shifted to stand up–

“Stay where you are.” Miyoshi’s tone is still light, but now had the edge that meant he expected to be obeyed.

“I’m just going to throw some water on my face.” He certainly wasn't going to grab a drink, things were unbelievable as it were with him sober.

“Leave, and so will I.”

“...Can I at least turn on the light?” The balcony they were sitting on didn’t have a dedicated light to it, but with the room adjacent illuminated, it would be enough.

“Can you do so from where you are?”

 _So that’s a no_. Was Miyoshi being difficult for his own amusement? Was he indeed an apparition? It couldn’t be someone faking him; anyone that got his character and even voice down so perfectly with so little words would be able to make a half decent disguise that held out to feeble lamplight. Besides, he’d seen Miyoshi’s face briefly before he was bitten; it _was_ his face.

Supposing it was Miyoshi, and he was real, was there something about his body that touch or too much light would give away something he didn’t want Sakuma seeing? Such as how healthy he was, or scars…

“Can I touch you?” Sakuma asked.

Miyoshi chuckled. “Still need to verify I’m real?”

“That, and I want to look for plastic surgery scars,” Sakuma said bluntly.

There was a pause, and then Miyoshi’s frame shook as he laughed softly.

“Oh, _very well_ , give me your hands.”

Sakuma extended his hands, and Miyoshi took hold of them in his, guiding them.

Had his fingers always been this cold? They had barely ever touched, and the night was cold, so Sakuma could draw no conclusions from that.

Miyoshi’s fingers took his hands and placed them on each side of his head, under his ears.

For a fleeting second, Sakuma cursed his long arms, wishing he’d had an excuse to draw closer to Miyoshi to do this.

And then he focused, calling back to the D-Agency training he’d had.

*

 _Since Amari had been the one to have the highest marks on the study of plastic surgeries,_ _he’d been designated as Sakuma’s teacher on the subject._

_“The measure of a good spy is not needing one,” Amari says, and pauses when he sees the look on Sakuma’s face. “Do you disagree?”_

_Sakuma decides to reply carefully. Amari isn't the issue; Hatano and Miyoshi are, as they’d chosen to retake the class, or more precisely, watch Sakuma take it, to stave off boredom._

_“I agree that with enough skill, a spy would manage to trick most people. However... it’s easy to differentiate an Asian man from an Caucasian one, for example. Considering current politics, wouldn’t it make espionage much easier if the agent could blend in ethnically as well?”_

_“Can you imagine convincing Miyoshi to change his pretty face?” Hatano says, loud enough to carry despite sitting at the very back. Miyoshi’s reply is inaudible._

_Sakuma coughs to hide his laughter and focuses on Amari, whose lips are tugging upwards._

_“A good point, Sakuma. However, every cosmetic surgery has risks, and a recovery period. Meaning that after being designated a mission, you’d have to take time to successfully undergo such a surgery and then build your character’s background. Time we often can’t spare._

_“Not only that, but it might make fleeing more difficult. Imagine you have procured intel that must be handed immediately or that you must run before being caught by enemy spies. Either way, you’ll be returning to your home country with speed and won’t have any time to do another surgery to look like your original ethnicity. You will then became conspicuous in your home country, jeopardizing the handover of intel, among other things. It’s best to never rely on surgeries. At the most, use a mask or other temporary face measures. But that will be covered by someone else.”_

_“So plastic surgery is something I should only expect from people other than spies?”_

_“Or amateur ones. Of course, there is one use of it that is gaining ground between spy facilities, but we’ll go over that later. Now, let’s go over the possible textures and placements of such surgeries…”_

*

Sakuma caressed the skin carefully with his thumbs. There were no traces of scars, surgical or otherwise. However, there were some small goosebumps. Was Miyoshi cold? He wasn’t wearing the same clothes he used to, maybe the material was lighter. Or maybe he’d been outside a while…

“Please tell me,” Miyoshi said, face placid as if Sakuma’s hands weren’t thoroughly exploring the back of his neck now, “why you think someone would go to the lengths of emulating me to this extent?”

“...The possibility is there,” Sakuma said. He’d finished examining him by now, but pretended to continue so he could feel Miyoshi beneath his fingertips for just a bit longer.

He now regretted never having paid attention to the details, much less touched him. Was Miyoshi’s hair this length before? Had it always been this silky, or more?

Miyoshi, naturally, noticed immediately. He furrowed his brows for a moment and removed Sakuma’s hands.

“Did you manage to find out anything useful?” he asked mockingly.

Sakuma ignored the tone. “Yes, that you might catch a cold before I do. Do you really not want to head inside already?”

“‘Already’? You’re assuming I’d do that eventually.”

Sakuma frowned for a moment, before understanding the situation.

“I was assuming you’d spend the night.”

“Why would I?” Miyoshi sounded almost defensive now.

“Why wouldn’t you?” Sakuma retorted, feeling for the first time that something was _different_. Miyoshi was the sort to inconvenience others for his own sake. He’d be the sort to, yes, break into someone’s home unannounced but then invite himself to sleep over. Maybe even trick the host into thinking it was their idea.

“Do you have something urgent to do?” Sakuma asked. That might be it. What had Miyoshi been up to, all this time? Had he been working for D-Agency all along, with Sakuma unaware of it?

Something fleeting passed Miyoshi’s face before it became completely shuttered of any emotions.

“No,” he said in an icy voice with an edge to it, “I have nothing urgent to do.”

Sakuma’s instincts were now screaming at him to not let Miyoshi leave tonight. He didn’t know why, but he now felt that if he let Miyoshi go, he wouldn’t be coming back.

“Stay here. It’s just one night.” Sakuma tried to not sound too desperate in case it irked Miyoshi. Then again, it might stroke his ego to hear it. As always, trying to figure out how to deal with him was complicated. “I could use some company.”

Once, Miyoshi would have jumped at his choice of words…

Miyoshi raised one eyebrow suggestively. “Oh my, how desperate. Is this village so small they don’t have women of the night?”

Sakuma was so relieved he could barely muster annoyance. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. You’ve come this far, why face the cold–”

“Oh, I can deal with the cold just _fine_.”

_Is this a throwback to his mission in Germany in general, or a hint as to how he survived? Do I apologize for suggesting he'd be bothered, or will it make it worse if I do?_

Dealing with Miyoshi had always been hard and required mental gymnastics.

He shouldn’t enjoy it so much, much less have _missed_ it so badly.

He chose to plough through without apologizing. “But you don’t have to. Why not indulge yourself just one night?”

Miyoshi silently studied him for a long minute.

“Hm, why not. Indulging myself at your expense certainly brings back memories. But if you wanted company so much, you should just invite some of your poker buddies up here. This place has enough room for the seven of them.”

Yes, the house was definitely large, much larger than Sakuma needed. The last tenants had been a household of six. However, of the villages he’d passed by searching for somewhere to be that would keep him away from the war and D-Agency, this small village had been the only one that had welcomed him warmly, despite being so young yet discharged from the War–

_The seven of them._

Sakuma froze as realization dawned. He did have seven men he was friendly to and often played poker with. But the last time they had managed to _all_ be free to play had been... more than a month ago.

Miyoshi had already been to see him. Had observed him and hadn’t bothered to–

“Why,” Sakuma said, hands balled into fists with the effort to control his anger, “didn’t you come to me then, too?”

“I didn’t see a reason to. You certainly seemed to be over it _then_.”

 _Over…? Unbelievable._ “I _am_ capable of feeling more than one emotion at a time, and I can control myself a little. It doesn’t mean I was over anything, and the anniversary broke said control.”

Miyoshi pursed his mouth now, looking as if Sakuma had said something mildly distasteful. “Why _are_ you so distraught over me, even after an year?”

He shouldn’t antagonize the man that was barely agreeing to stay as it was, but Sakuma couldn’t help himself.

“Come now,” he said in a feeble imitation of Miyoshi earlier, “that wouldn’t be interesting. You should use your head to figure it out.”

Not that he wanted Miyoshi to figure it out, he might just humiliate Sakuma and never come back.

Miyoshi considered his words before nodding once. “That is fair, I suppose.”

_No, it isn’t. The answer to your question is easy enough to find out, mine isn’t._

He stood up abruptly before the conversation soured and made Miyoshi change his mind.

“Shall we?”

Miyoshi shrugged and stood up with his usual old grace, and then walked past Sakuma into the bedroom adjacent to their part of the balcony. He turned on the lights without preamble.

 _So keeping us in the darkness was just another way of fooling with me._ Sakuma was relieved.

He immediately focused on examining Miyoshi. It was easier to draw comparisons by sight than touch, since he’d barely done the latter before.

What Sakuma had assumed was a suit coat turned out to be a dark grey trenchcoat. It was bulky; Miyoshi's old suit had been cut to accentuate his figure. Even with the belt, the trenchcoat still hid his. And yet, it couldn’t be a question of lack of money for tailoring; the trenchcoat was clearly high end couture.

 _No, not clearly_ , Sakuma could tell because he’d been trained to do so. An ordinary person wouldn’t have noticed it so quickly.

An ordinary person would never give such a nondescript, unflattering trenchcoat, and it’s wearer, another glance.

His pants were black and also just as expensive as they were unflattering. Same for the shoes.

Still, judging by his head, Miyoshi’s weight was about the same as it had been before, give or take. His hair was slightly longer, and seemed more untidy than usual, but little enough it might be due to the wind and not lack of care about it, since it didn’t look dirty, or felt so earlier.

Sakuma didn’t bother to study his complexion more than this; D-Agency members were proficient with makeup, so Miyoshi could easily be hiding marks or bags under his eyes, or if he was paler than he should be.

His eyes... were watching Sakuma scrutinize him. Had they always had a hint of tiredness to them?

Miyoshi had been dead for a year, and before that had been away on a mission for almost the same amount of time.

Sakuma had interacted with him for less time than they’d been apart. It brought a pang to his chest. _Maybe Miyoshi was right to find my grief strange._

“I don’t recall you being so overt. Isn’t this very impolite?”

“Things have changed, and you’d notice even if I had been subtle.”

Miyoshi cocked his head sideways, now examining Sakuma in turn. “True,” he said. “You’ve changed.”

Sakuma was well aware. He’d changed inside after being subjected to D-Agency’s training, and the circumstances that had him forfeiting that had only changed him further.

And outwardly he was also different. More tanned despite the cold region, due to long hours helping out at farms when help was needed, and his clothes were a simple kimono rather than a suit. He still remained physically fit, at least.

“Do you even have a spare futon?” Miyoshi asked, breaking the silence. “You don’t even have a _television_.” His tone was one of exaggerated horror.

Sakuma didn’t even blink at the statement. _Of course_ Miyoshi had looked around the house before going to him.

“Books are enough,” Sakuma replied, “and this place came with some complimentary furniture. Futons were included, and I keep the spare ones clean.” Cleaning things unnecessarily was a relaxing way to pass the time.

He went to the closet and brought two futons out. Wordlessly, Miyoshi walked to him and took one from his hands, but didn’t set it down.

“You’re my guest,” Sakuma pointed out. “I’ll do that.”

“It’s fine.”

Sakuma tried something else. “I have spare kimonos you can change into.”

“That won’t be necessary, my clothes are fine.”

Sakuma decided not to push his luck and accepted it. He put his futon on the floor and watched Miyoshi place his a good few feet away.

*

_“What are you doing?” Sakuma complains when Miyoshi pushes his sleeping bag right next to Sakuma’s despite the large space they had at the clearing._

_“It’s cold, we’ll be warmer like this,” Miyoshi says plainly, already lying down._

_They were so close Sakuma can feel his body heat. He turns to the side, with his back to Miyoshi._

_“The sleeping bags are warm enough, and last I saw, you could handle the cold.”_

_“Stop whining Lieutenant, are you telling me you and your Army comrades never had training where you needed to huddle in the woods?”_

_“But_ we _don’t need to huddle, there is plenty of space. And…” he drops his voice to a whisper, despite the fact the others weren’t anywhere in sight. Only Miyoshi had insisted on accompanying Sakuma to ‘ensure he made it out alive’. “You don't act like they did.”_

_“Hm,” Miyoshi hums and Sakuma chokes when he feels Miyoshi press against his back. “Is it so bad that I don’t?”_

_No, it feels good, even with two sleeping bags and their outing clothes between them. It feels good in a way it surely shouldn’t feel with someone Sakuma has barely known._

_“...No,” Sakuma admits, and wonders how much Miyoshi has guessed of his feelings by now. Maybe more than Sakuma himself has._

_“Don’t worry,” Miyoshi says, “I’ll be out of your hair soon enough. We’re still finalizing preparations, but it seems I’ll leave for a mission soon.”_

Oh. _Well, it was going to happen eventually, Sakuma knew that._

_“Where?”_

_“Germany.”_

_“Is it long?”_

_“Lt. Col. Yuuki estimates it should take about two years, so I’ll finish it in less than one.”_

_Cheeky, but believable, coming from him._

_One year. A small part of Sakuma is glad; distance from Miyoshi might help sort out these feelings that are growing too alarmingly fast._

_But for the most part it pains him._

_Sakuma comes to a decision and turns to face Miyoshi again. Before he can change his mind, he extricates himself from his sleeping bag and nudges Miyoshi._

_“Move over, two can fit in this.”_

_For a fearful moment, he wonders if Miyoshi will laugh at him and refuse. Instead he stares with open surprise at Sakuma before shifting to give him space to enter._

_It’s a good thing his frame is lithe unlike Sakuma’s bulky one, else the sleeping bag would have burst. As it is, it’s very warm and without any space to move, but neither bother Sakuma._

_“You’ll have two years to enjoy cold and solitude, so I’ll let you have one last taste of uncomfortable body heat before you do.”_

_“You are most kind, Lieutenant,” Miyoshi says with mirth but not mockery, his face so close Sakuma can feel his breath, “but it’s one year, not two.”_

_“I’ll retract my words when you come back.”_

_It’s only a matter of_ when _he does, not_ if _. That option doesn't even register._

_Miyoshi hums again, shifts so that he can use Sakuma’s shoulder as a pillow and falls asleep._

*

“Can I ask you some questions?” Sakuma asked, staring at the darkness of the ceiling. There had really been nothing to do after laying out the futons, so both had simply laid down and turned off the lights. Conversation felt awkward; before, it was always Miyoshi who initiated them and he clearly had no intention of doing so now.

He heard Miyoshi chuckle. “You can ask whatever you want, it doesn't mean I’ll answer them.”

Sakuma sighed. “First, have you been… are you… well?”

Silence greeted him.

And then, “Certainly.”

 _He could be lying_. Sakuma hoped he wasn’t.

“Do the others know about you?” Had they known all along and not told him?

“You will _not_ mention this to them.” Miyoshi’s tone was sharp and clear.

So either they didn’t know, or Miyoshi wasn’t supposed to have met with Sakuma. Or both.

“Fine. When I wake up in the morning, will you still be here?”

“No.”

“...But will you come visit me again?”

The pause this time was more strained, and longer.

“We’ve established I’m alive. With that settled, you don’t need me around anymore, do you?”

“You think I’d still be grieving your death if I didn’t enjoy your company?”

An even longer silence ensued this time. To the point that Sakuma was already dozing off when Miyoshi finally answered.

“Maybe. If I feel like it.”

It’s the best he’d get from Miyoshi. Satisfied, Sakuma allowed himself to drift off.

*

Sakuma woke up from a mesh of forgotten dreams that hadn’t felt like dreams, but memories. Something important about plastic surgery and corpses, and then someone telling him to not get any closer to Miyoshi’s corpse…

_Miyoshi._

Sakuma sat up and glanced around his bedroom. There was no other futon laid out, no indication anyone else had been there at all.

He touched his fingers to his lip gingerly. It was swollen, and clearly had been bitten. But he could have done that to himself…

 _You could have at least left something to make me sure_ , Sakuma thought bitterly, already second guessing his supposed meeting with Miyoshi.

Feeling sick, he took his futon and opened the closet to put it away.

He froze.

The spare futons were all there, piled tidily as always.

However, on top of them lay flowers. Days old it seemed; dead and so withered he almost couldn’t recognize them. But he did.

They were the flowers he’d left on Miyoshi’s grave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I know everyone wants to know how he survived, but it wouldn’t be Miyoshi if he simply spoon-fed everything to Sakuma already.
> 
> *In case anyone is wondering why I’ve updated this so fast instead of High Card, it’s because HC is longer, with more plot points to take care of and due some things I’ve been reading, it seems like I’ll need to rethink what I was planning, to avoid having the fic turn into a complete AU due to whatever may happen in ep12. So, that one needs more thought right now. So does this one, but I reasoned I could put out at least this part without feeling like I need to watch ep.12 first.
> 
> *In that light, don't expect chapters out this fast in the future
> 
> *If anyone is rereading this chapter and feels the Amari part has been changed: you are correct. I only later realized timeline wise what was wirtten before wouldn't work.


	3. Chapter 3

Sakuma sat with perfect poise, back straight and feet tucked under his thighs, and reflected.

The bite mark was easy to explain.

The flowers not so much.

Unless he had brought those flowers back with him when he visited the grave, and had been so distraught he hadn’t even noticed.

It was a worrying explanation, but certainly more plausible than that Miyoshi was alive and had decided to reveal himself only now for no reason-

 _No, no without reason._ The flowers meant that Miyoshi had seen them on his grave and...what? Slung around dead flowers on his person until he could deliver them back to Sakuma? He couldn’t imagine someone like Miyoshi carrying around something so inelegant like dead flowers. Then again, Sakuma hadn’t seen any flowers on him yesterday, so perhaps he’d kept them hidden from view inside his trench coat.

Nonetheless, that still left the issue of what, exactly, had been the point of them. An elaborate way of assuring Sakuma he’d been there, because leaving a note or still being around when he woke up weren’t morbid or artistic enough for Miyoshi?

He’d wanted Sakuma to move on… was he telling Sakuma to stop paying his respects to the grave?

Sakuma sighed and scratched his hair. First, he needed to confirm if he was losing his mind or not.

*

Kaede, his boss at the restaurant, was initially displeased to see him there in the morning, but relaxed when Sakuma assured her he’d come as a customer.

“You certainly look much better today,” she said as she set his breakfast before him. “More bright eyed, but are your lips alright?”

“It’s fine,” Sakuma said congenially, and surreptitiously glanced at the door when he heard it open. Two acquaintances came in, and one was the target he’d been hoping to bump into by coming to the restaurant at this hour.

He invited them over to his table.

“Eh, what’s this now, boy?” said the target, a man old enough that he could get away with calling Sakuma ‘boy’ without seeming strange. “Got yourself a feisty lass?”

Sakuma chuckled at how near the mark he’d been, but shook his head. “No, I’m afraid this was just me being a distracted fool.”

“Must have been a mighty distraction, to get you to do that to yourself,” said the other one, laughing. “What was it?”

His prying was annoying, but Kaede was nowhere near to tell them to not be so rude, and Sakuma needed them pliant today, so he thought of an excuse.

“I was eating on the balcony. An animal streaked through the yard and startled me into biting myself.”

The men laughed at the silliness of it, and Sakuma joined them.

“An animal?” Kaede asked, now setting down food for the other two. “Was it Shiro’s dog? I swear, that thing keeps escaping and ruining my flowerbeds!”

“No, not a dog,” Sakuma assured her, and remembered the cat he’d seen the day before. “It was a cat.”

Kaede opened her mouth to ask for details, but another customer called for her and she had leave.

“Doesn’t it sting? It looks ugly as hell,” his target asked. Sakuma resisted the urge to lick the wound.

“It’s fine. And it’s not the first time I’ve had this.”

The other time he’d gotten bitten was now a little over two years ago.

It had also been Miyoshi.

*

_Spies don’t say goodbye, because they’re supposed to consider leaving too mundane for that, and their ties too fleeting for such emotional displays._

_Which is why, when Miyoshi leaves for his two year mission (which he claims will only take one) in Germany, the D-Agency members say their farewells in subtle means._

_Fukumoto makes Miyoshi’s favorite sweet for breakfast, Kaminaga and Jitsui tell him local gossip free of charge, Amari offers him a cigarette which just happens to be Miyoshi’s favorite brand and Hatano allows him to take the best seat in the kitchen, despite having arrived first._

_And they’re all up at four in the morning, as if that were normal for them._

_As for Odagiri...they don’t even talk about Odagiri. And perhaps, the mere fact that they can’t make light of his resignation shows how they feel about it._

_Nonetheless, Sakuma isn’t a spy, yet. He is now learning to be one, and he feels he’s rapidly improving, but not good enough that he can feel satisfied with subterfuge to say goodbye._

_He waits by the Agency’s door._

_Miyoshi walks out, suitcase in hand, and sees him, eyes betraying no surprise._

_“Lieutenant,” Miyoshi says and waits._

_Sakuma hates when he does that; force him to start the conversation. He tries shrugging his shoulders to make light of his position. “I was going to wish you good luck, but then I realized you’d take that as a slight.”_

_Miyoshi chuckles. He does it easily, these days, at any little thing Sakuma says._

_“You’re right. A good spy doesn’t need luck.”_

(And one year later a part of Sakuma that hadn’t fully become atheist yet, wondered if the gods had cursed Miyoshi for having such contempt for luck. Dead in a freak accident. It sounded like a joke.)

(And then that part died, because Sakuma decided that if the gods existed and were that cruel, he would rather scorn them by not acknowledging their existence.)

 _“Then...I suppose this is goodbye, and I won’t wish you anything,” Sakuma says without missing a beat, and extends his hand for a handshake. He’s learned_ something _, after all._

_Miyoshi looks at the extended hand as if it were an intriguing sight and doesn’t lift his own._

_Instead he asks, “Are you glad that I’m leaving?”_

_In his surprise, Sakuma lets the hand fall back to his side. He wonders if it’s a trick question. With Miyoshi, it likely is._

_“I’m happy that you were assigned something so important, you were looking forward to it.”_

_“Such a gracious answer. I can’t wait to see what you’ll have become when I come back. But alas, I was looking for sincerity not diplomacy. Are you relieved?”_

_“No,” Sakuma says and, by the small arch of Miyoshi’s eyebrow, knows he’s answered far too quickly. He tries to salvage the situation. “I don’t understand why you thought I would. I’ve long stopped having any grievances towards you.”_

_“Yes, you have.” Miyoshi’s smile is sharp and there’s a light in his eyes Sakuma can’t decipher. “And that_ is _the issue, is it not?”_

_Sakuma blinks and can’t stop himself from coloring, because surely Miyoshi hadn’t just implied that he knows-_

_“Absence makes the heart grow fonder, they say,” Miyoshi’s tone is derisive, “yet I’ve always found complete absence and distance only help cut ties and diminish feelings. Aren’t you looking forward to that, Sakuma?”_

_It’s not his name, said with no formality, so much as the words preceding it that have Sakuma turn scarlet as he splutters for words._

_Miyoshi_ knows _._

_Miyoshi takes one look at him and chuckles again. Somehow, against all odds, it doesn’t sound malicious._

_“Don’t look like that, Lieutenant. You weren’t that obvious. We’re just that good.”_

_‘We’. Meaning the rest had also figured out his feelings._

_He’d feel humiliated if a wave of sadness wasn’t washing over him._

_“You know,” he says with resignation._

_“Were you ever going to tell me?”_

_“Of course not. I would only stand to lose by saying such a thing.”_

_Miyoshi eyes him cryptically. “I wonder…” he says softly, then shrugs and continues before Sakuma can react to those words. “Either way, it doesn’t matter anymore. It’s cute that you have a crush on me, but don’t worry too much. This infatuation will cease soon enough. It’s too long a time without any contact. You should be happy about this turn of events.”_

_Maybe he’s right, but Sakuma doesn’t think so. It’s true they’ve only known each other a few months, yet his feelings feel stronger than the crushes he had in the past. But he doesn’t say that, or anything else._

_Miyoshi looks at him as if gauging something, and then theatrically looks at his watch. “I have to go.”_

_“Goodbye, Miyoshi. Ah...Maki?”_

_Miyoshi’s lips twitched. “I suppose with you, I’m still ‘Miyoshi’. Goodbye Lieutenant, survive the training so I can see your progress when I get back. And one last thing…”_

_Miyoshi takes a step towards Sakuma, now invading his personal space, leans on tiptoes…and kisses him._

_Sakuma has no time to react. Miyoshi sucks on his bottom lip for a second-_

_-and then Sakuma is pulling away in pain with the coppery taste of blood on his lips._

_He gingerly touches his mouth, uncomprehending. “Did you just…?”_

_Miyoshi licks his own lips clean, slowly, with his tongue._

_“Now, you won’t be able to forget me at least until that is healed.”_

_And he turns and leaves without a backward glance._

*

Those two bites were the only times Miyoshi had ever physically harmed him in any manner. Miyoshi had always chosen to cut people down with his sharp tongue or tricks where he didn’t have to personally soil his hands.

More importantly, the Miyoshi that had left for the German mission had known how Sakuma had felt, yet last night had questioned why Sakuma would still be grieving, or want him to stay.

He...supposed he couldn’t blame him too much for that. They’d known each other for months, then were completely separated for two years. Any sane person would have moved on long ago.

And yet, Sakuma hadn’t.

Maybe because Miyoshi’s intensity made up for the lack of time. And Sakuma had never met anyone close to what Miyoshi had been, so how could he move on? Two years hadn’t been enough.

And now he was back, leaving as much of an impression as he once had, and ending any chance Sakuma ever had of quitting his feelings.

He wondered how long it would take Miyoshi to realize that yes, Sakuma had simply been foolish enough to hold on to his affection for so long.

 _If_ Miyoshi wasn’t a figment of his desperate imagination.

He turned to the two men on his table, and called to his target.

“Thank you again for that ride home from the station the other day.”

“You’re still thanking me for that? It was nothing lad.”

“No, I insist. I wasn’t myself at that time. If I’d been left to my own devices I might have accidently walked all the way back to Tokyo before getting here.”

He paused so they could laugh, and carefully kept going. “No, I’m serious,” he said, but making sure to smile to make it seem like a joke. “For example, I swear I found the remnants of dead flowers in my house today, yet for the life of me I can’t recall bringing any flowers back from my trip. I don’t suppose I as carrying flowers on me when you gave me a ride?”

“Boy, you really are losing it,” the man said with a laughter that wasn’t cruel, and shook his head. “No, you didn’t have flowers on you. I’d have found that too strange to not ask you about it.”

A weight was lifted from Sakuma. The issue wasn’t in his head, Miyoshi had truly been there and brought the flowers.

“Maybe your cat did it.”

Sakuma blinked and focused on Kaede, who had spoken, confused.

“Pardon?”

“Your cat,” she explained, “maybe it brought you flowers. Cat bring gifts to owners don’t they?”

 _I don’t own Miyoshi in the least_. “It wasn’t my cat, just a stray passing through.” _A stray that might not come back again. No, don’t think like that._

“And besides,” one of the men interjected, “cats don’t bring flowers. They’ll bring you dead birds and rats. You’ve never a cat, so you wouldn’t know, Mrs. Kaede.”

The conversation then turned to simple mundane things, like how the farmers were faring and a new arrival on the neighboring village.

Sakuma answered on cue, but his mind was elsewhere.

It felt like it’d woken up after a long sleep, gears moving as he tried to think everything through.

The village wasn’t anywhere near a station. To reach it one would have to have a car, or walk quite a few miles. For most that meant it was hard to reach, but to Miyoshi that would have meant easy ways of arriving without being conspicuous. There was no point in asking around if anyone had seen him; Miyoshi knew how to make himself invisible, or easily forgotten.

His mind went on to think of corpses...

The corpse he’d seen was someone else’s, with face surgically altered into Miyoshi’s. Of that, Sakuma now had no doubts.

However...plastic surgery required time to heal. Even if Miyoshi had had a corpse with a similar body to his own, he’d have needed time to find a trustworthy surgeon -or one that could be blackmailed- to do such a thing and then give time for the new face to set.

Had Miyoshi had a body ready long before the train crash? That would mean he had to have known about the crash long before it happened, despite it having been ruled as accidental...

That or he managed to switch himself with a corpse between the crash and the burial.

Either option only opened a path for more questions and possibilities.

*

Later, when he was alone, he punched a wall.

He wanted to storm to Tokyo, to go to D-Agency and shake Lt. Col. Yuuki himself.

They had known. They had known the corpse wasn’t Miyoshi. It all made sense when he considered that they had; the fact Lt. Col. Yuuki allowed them to got to Germany, and then how they wouldn’t let Sakuma near Miyoshi’s pale body.

Even if they hadn’t thought of Sakuma as a comrade, to have done something of that magnitude to him, who had clearly been suffering, was just too cruel.

 _Why_ had they done it? He couldn’t ask. Not until he met Miyoshi again and gotten his approval.

If he met him again.

*

Hope was better than resigned despair, at least. It soothed the pain even as it sharpened want.

So Sakuma moved on as he did before, interacted as he did before. But it was as if he’d been asleep, and now he was waiting.

He’d wait another two years, if he must.

*

“Has your stray appeared again?” Kaede asked, one week later. It took Sakuma a moment to understand, and he nearly chortled at the misunderstanding he’d brought on. Especially since Miyoshi despised cats.

“No, not yet.”

“Have you tried putting food out for it?” A restaurant guest suggested, overhearing them. “Put some on the yard.”

Sakuma thanked his suggestion.

Naturally, he did no such thing.

However...he asked around and found someone selling a television two villages over.

He bought it, installed it and checked to see if it worked. It did.

He then unplugged it and forgot about it: he hadn’t bought it for himself.

*

One week turned into two. Two into three.

And then, one month after he’d been visited by Miyoshi…

*

The man who’d once been Miyoshi, and then Maki, and was now no one, prowled around the empty house.

He knew it was empty, despite its size, because there were no visitor’s shoes at the door and he’d watched Sakuma talking avidly with a villager as he helped him carry some wares.

Sakuma had looked well. It seemed just knowing he was alive was enough. No, not _him_ ; Miyoshi.

He would leave and never return, Sakuma would move on, finally. As it should be.

But old habits die hard, and he wanted to take one last look at Sakuma’s abode; the house wielding more information about his life in the last month than observing him from a distance ever would.

The house remained as spotless as last time, and it wasn’t exactly a good sign. There was no indication of dirt from guests, and with an empty house this large, the cleanliness spoke of an owner that had too much time alone and taken to keeping it spotless as pastime, not hygiene.

Nothing pointed to Sakuma bringing guests over; the food was only enough for one person and barely so, since Sakuma spent most of his meals in the village.

It was fine; it didn’t mean Sakuma needed him. On the contrary, he might be prone to solitude. And yet...that didn’t feel right. The Sakuma of years before hadn’t been like this. It seemed the Army and D-agency had worn him.

The nameless man continued his study of the place.

And then he found the television.

He stared at it, dumbfounded.

It wasn’t even plugged in. A careful study of it showed it hadn’t been used in a while. As if its current owner had bought it second hand and never used it.

Sakuma hadn’t bought the television for himself.

His throat constricted.

The television stood there, a promise and a request from Sakuma. And it was as frightening as it was enticing.

Except it wasn’t aimed at him, but at Miyoshi.

Miyoshi was dead, Sakuma had yet to comprehend that.

He didn’t want Sakuma to figure it out and yet...he did, so that all ties would be finally cut decisively.

He should just tell him, and get it over with.

But he was too selfish for that, he wanted to bask in Sakuma’s illusions a little longer, even if pained him in the end.

*

Sakuma made the way back to his house as the sun was setting, muscles slightly strained from all the weight he’d been carrying. As the fittest man around by far, he tended to be called upon to help heavier load. He didn’t mind, anything that passed the time was fine by him.

After stepping inside, Sakuma kneeled to remove his shoes and switch to indoor ones.

He froze when he looked down.

His indoor sandals were missing. In its place was a pair of shoes he hadn’t seen before.

Sakuma’s heartbeat sped up. His first instinct was to rush inside so he could see the owner but he curbed that, choosing to examine the shoes for clues first.

There was nothing. No brand, meaning made to order, and foreign. No line he could pursue, and not even dirt he could examine to determine where it’d been.

As usual, Miyoshi had been thorough in leaving no track that could be followed.

_Miyoshi._

Kicking his shoes off, Sakuma walked barefooted and quickly through the house.

He found Miyoshi lounging on the sitting room, in front of -but with his back to- the television, doing a crossword puzzle in what looked like Mandarin.

“There was nothing on the television worth watching, and you don’t have a chessboard,” Miyoshi stated placidly without looking up from the puzzle.

It took a moment for Sakuma to understand what he said; he had a hundred questions he wanted answered before wondering why Miyoshi was doing the crossword.

“I have shogi,” Sakuma’s brain supplied as he sat down carefully next to Miyoshi.

“I prefer chess.”

 _I remember._ “A chess board will be hard to come by here.”

“I wasn't telling you to buy one.”

“I know. But I will if I’m able to.” Sakuma swallowed and, after an indecisive pause, added, “we can play it next time.”

“Next time,” Miyoshi echoed the words, but without any inflection that showed if he was agreeing or disagreeing with it.

Sakuma reached for a cigarette.

“Don’t smoke,” Miyoshi said, voice authoritative.

Sakuma sighed, wondering if he was simply being teased again. “Did you give up smoking?”

Miyoshi smiled slightly and almost ruefully. “Something like that.”

 _Oh_. So it might not be another prank, but an order with motive behind it.

Sakuma eyed Miyoshi. His face seemed much the same as he did a month ago. Sakuma wondered if makeup was hiding anything.

And speaking of hiding...he was again completely bundled in a trench coat. It was different than the last one, and looked to be of thicker material, but still as nondescript and expensive as the other.

_I know it’s chilly, but isn’t he too warm in that?_

“Are you going to stare at me all night?”

 _I would if you’d let me._ “May I ask questions instead?”

“Like I said last time, you may ask them, it doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”

 _At least it doesn't seem like you’ll leave if I do_. “Why...why did all of you keep me in the dark for so long?”

Miyoshi blinked in slight surprise and looked up from the puzzle. “All of you?”

“ _Don’t_. I’ve been...thinking about this since you left. That corpse...it was just someone that had post mortem plastic surgery to look like you, wasn’t it?”

“And exactly why has that led you to the conclusion the others knew about it?” Miyoshi said, his usual bemused but unreadable mask in place.

“Because it explains why Lt. Col. Yuuki allowed us to cremate the corpse, and why they didn’t let me get near it.”

Miyoshi fixed his posture, sitting straight up and letting go of the crossword to finally give Sakuma his full attention.

“Oh, so that _was_ D-Agency? I heard Col. Wolff went into a legendary rage when Katsuhiko Maki’s alleged family came one night, and performed a private funeral where they cremated the corpse, and then left before he got wind of it, and not even who cremated Maki could be located.”

Col. Wolff, Sakuma recalled having been informed, was a German who had managed to figure out Katsuhiko Maki had been Lt. Col. Yuuki’s underling, and had tried to ensnare him using the dead body as bait.

More importantly…Miyoshi’s words implied he hadn’t, in fact, been in touch with D-Agency, else he’d have known about the cremation in detail. Unless he was lying to Sakuma, or his contact hadn’t been much and so not sufficient to warrant talking about trivial things.

Miyoshi chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. “The audacity and foolhardiness of it. I could hardly believe it might have been D-Agency, I assumed you’d at least hired someone to do it, not go there yourselves. I’m assuming it was _your_ idea, but how did you get them to agree?

“Clearly, because they knew it wasn’t you and wanted to get rid of the corpse before someone examined it closely.”

“Start at the beginning, I want details.”

Miyoshi actually looked interested, now. Sakuma took in a deep breath...

It began with the end of Katsuhiko Maki’s life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The other spies will appear, and not just in flashbacks, not to worry.
> 
> *I’ve decided to use italics and a different verb tense to clearly mark flashbacks. I hope the italics aren’t a problem to read even in long passages. In fact, I've chosen cut the chapter short of another longish flashback sequence so I could hear any opinions on that and go with what the majority feels.
> 
> *If High Card has as a main plot point Sakuma’s issues with himself, Stray has Miyoshi being the one with problems instead.
> 
> *Miyoshi disliking cats is canon. And likely because he’s so much like one.
> 
> *Stray:  
> Verb: move away aimlessly from a group or from the right course or place.  
> Noun: a stray person or thing, especially a domestic animal. Ex: a stray cat.


	4. Chapter 4

It began with the end of Katsuhiko Maki’s life.

_Sakuma stands before Lt. Col. Yuuki, behind him the spies not currently out on assignments. All their stares put together mean nothing to him now; he has a goal and it burns him to see it through._

_The last few days had been a blur of denial, hope, anger, grief, and numbness over the news that the one Katsuhiko Maki had perished tragically in a train crash._

_His current goal is what made him see through it all. It’s pointless, and he knows Miyoshi would hold him in contempt for it, but Miyoshi isn’t here anymore and Sakuma needs some form of closure._

_“And why would I agree to let you go to Germany?” Lt. Col. Yuuki asks, looking feintly amused._

_Sakuma knows better than to suggest any course of action based on sentimentality to him._

_“Is the network Miyo-Maki so diligently built up really going to accept someone else taking over?”_

_“What are you suggesting?”_

_“How are you going to control and maintain the informants and network Maki amassed?” Sakuma retorts with a question of his own._

_“The situation is being studied, and once that is done I will decide how best to proceed.”_

_Bullshit. “I think that’s not necessarily true. You wouldn’t have risked going to visit the corpse to grab the information if you felt the network might have to be abandoned. You might be biding your time, but ultimately you want to continue his work.”_

_Lt. Col. Yuuki smiles slightly but doesn’t deny it. “And how does your wish play into what I want?”_

_“Cremate the body,” because he wanted a proper burial for Miyoshi, one where people who knew what he really was, who understood what he’d managed to do, even in death, “so that the Germans cannot think to use it to scare off his network.”_

_“Maki would have given them codes a successor would utilize in case of his demise.”_

_“If the German’s release information about Maki implying he wasn’t a simple art dealer, the network will realize his cover was compromised along with his death, and some might worry their names and other information ended up in the hands of the enemy.”_

_“Hm, your suggestion is that, by burning the body we can claim Maki needed to be substituted by a successor but is alive elsewhere, while if we allow the body to lie, the German’s might realize they have an opportunity to cause panic and distrust among the network?”_

_“Yes, sir. Not to mention, I’m sure anyone here in D-Agency can forge Maki’s handwriting and style. Rather than go to the informants with news of his death, go to them with a letter seemingly from Maki, claiming to be passing the work on.”_

_“You think that is reason enough to let you do something so foolish as go there?”_

_“We can’t wait too long, we need to strike before they think of using him.”_

_“Isn’t the fact that it seems so insane the very reason it’ll work?” a new voice speaks up._

_Sakuma turns around. Hatano had spoken._

_“Oh?” Lt. Col. Yuuki says mildly, turning his attention to him._

_“You’ve already taken a big risk going there right when they were expecting you,” Hatano tells him, not seeming to care that his words might sound accusatory. “Only a complete fool would risk getting close a second time, and for something so minor. So, with that in mind, they probably won’t be expecting us at all.”_

He said ‘us’, _Sakuma realizes and is hardly surprised; of course they wouldn’t let him go alone. If he’s allowed to go at all._

_“And while some us are charged with cremating the body,” Tazaki says, “one of us can reach the most important contacts and ensure their safety and continued assistance when a permanent replacement for Maki arrives.”_

_“More than that.” It’s Amari this time. “We need to verify if it’s indeed still possible to send someone else over, or if these Germans are too dangerous to risk sending another spy. Send one of us ahead tomorrow. That person will survey the situation and, depending on results, we’ll decide what to do when the others arrive later.”_

_*_

“What is it?”

Sakuma blinked at Miyoshi’s question. He hadn’t realized he’d paused telling the past.

“It’s... nothing.”

“It’s obviously something, go on.”

Sakuma sighed. “Just... although their arguments for going were all clearly logical, at the time I thought that maybe they had also secretly wanted to give you a send off.”

Miyoshi made a sound Sakuma couldn’t decide if it was annoyance or derision. Likely both.

“Do you still believe the dead pay attention to the living? And then, that risking what I died doing over a ‘send off’ would honor me in any way? Moving on is the right thing to do.”

“Would you be here right now, if I had moved on?” Sakuma regretted asking that one second after the words were out of his mouth.

Miyoshi’s face become an impassive mask Sakuma knew better than to try and see through.

“I’m here on, shall we say, a technicality. The deceased do _not_ come back if you grieve enough. I’m here because I, as it were, hadn’t died yet.”

“I understand what you mean, just as I know you understood what I meant.”

“You think my presence is a reward. It isn’t.”

“I think I’ll be the one to decide what it is or isn’t to me. Why do you think it’s not?”

Miyoshi sighed and shrugged, as if tired of the conversation. “You’re still slow in some things, Lieutenant. You’ll understand in time. Now, go on with your account.”

This time, Sakuma was the one to sigh. “Obviously Lt. Col. Yuuki relented or else we wouldn’t be having this conversation. We then set out–”

“Who’s we?”

“Hatano, Jitsui, Tazaki, and I, since we were the ones without missions at the time.”

“What reason did they have to allow you to go? Training?”

“Yes.”

Miyoshi seemed mildly curious now. “How did it go?”

“I almost passed.” He chuckled at the memory.

“Almost?”

“Too much sentimentality.”

“Ah. So, the mission?”

“I’m afraid I have little to say, they had me focus on trying to maintain my disguise and kept me out of the loop. Nothing much happened in the journey or when I arrived since I didn’t have much contact with them either. I’ve forgotten most of its aspects by now.”

One thing he had yet to forget in minute detail was digging up a grave, however.

*

_It’s cold. It’s snowing and in the middle of the night and snow falls from the shovel and inside his coat sleeve._

_Somehow, he doesn’t mind it. He digs and digs and finds it somewhat amusing that he can do it so well thanks to discipline and fitness he acquired for the military. What would they think, if they knew their training was being used for the sake of unburying spies._

_Hatano and Amari watch on solemnly. Another time Sakuma would have been angry that they’re leaving all the hard work to him. This time, he prefers it._

_Maybe they think him a fool. Maybe he really is one. But he’s been uprooted from years of belief in the system, in the Army and the sanctity of the Emperor and… and he doesn’t know what to believe anymore. What to rely on. So he only has his own feelings to fall back to and as useless as it is, he wants to give Miyoshi this._

_It’s probably because he hasn’t had time to do anything else. There are things left unsaid, questions left unasked, games they haven’t played and rematches not done._

_He had never given Miyoshi a proper greeting at the very start, because he’d been too tied to his own skewered view to see him or the others as someone he should greet._

_So. No greetings, no proper conversations. Sakuma needs to at least give him a proper farewell. He won’t be regretting that, at least._

_(But he didn’t tell Miyoshi any of that. From his mouth came only the cold facts.)_

_The shovel strikes something more solid than snow, and the noise makes it clear he has hit his target._

_Amari and Hatano are suddenly next to him._

_“That’s enough, leave the rest to us,” Hatano says, prying the shovel off his fingers._

_“This will require more technique, go get the car ready,” Amari instructs, gently pushing him away._

_Sakuma obeys. He waits in the car and when the two come back, the body is inside a body bag._

_No matter, he sees it later, briefly, when they take it to be cremated._

_The man they hired is nervous. And he should be. Their cover story is dangerous; family that didn’t have the appropriate papers, illegally in the country to give their deceased blood the proper rights. The man only accepted because he needs the money and even so, he’ll likely give them away in the morning._

_Or so the man thinks. They’ll drug him, and make it look like his own drunken mistake. When he wakes up one day later, they’ll be long gone and the disguises they wore should ensure he’ll give a wrong description of them to the authorities. And the authorities will be too embarrassed and confused by the whole mess to pursue it further, burying it instead._

_Sakuma finally sees the corpse. Pale and caked in dry blood, it still looks like Miyoshi, even from a distance. He takes a step towards it, but Hatano holds him in place._

_“Don’t get any closer,” Hatano says and explains, “you know how he was. Narcissistic. He wouldn’t want you to see how he is from close quarters, much less smell him._

_(_ “That should have been your clue,” Miyoshi said with contempt. “As if they’d care about that any more than I would. No wonder you failed.” _)_

_The body is cremated. The ashes are scattered. The spies reconvene and return to Japan, where an empty grave is made for Miyoshi._

_*_

“Was the grave your idea again?”

“I wanted one, but when we came back plans were already being made. I didn’t need to ask.”

“And in the end, D-Agency came to the conclusion it would be too risky to continue operations, and the network had to be abandoned.”

Sakuma blinked. That had been it exactly. So Miyoshi _had_ known what happened.

Miyoshi saw the look on his face and shrugged. “It’s not a hard conclusion to come to. Col. Wolff was too obsessed with catching anyone tied to Lt. Col. Yuuki.” He smiled cryptically. “And quite ruthless in his pursuit.”

Sakuma frowned, wondering if Miyoshi did indeed simply assume correctly, or if he was trying to trick Sakuma into thinking he hadn’t been told that information beforehand.

And there was also the comment about ruthlessness… then again, Sakuma supposed using a corpse as bait could be grounds to be called such.

Silence had descended. Miyoshi glanced at the setting sun.

“Hm, you finished in good time. I’ll take my leave.”

_Oh, no you don’t._ Sakuma had to physically restrain himself from crossing the distance between them and grabbing Miyoshi. “Stay the night again.”

He thought that, if Miyoshi was so bundled up even indoors, either his clothing was thinner than it looked or he was currently averse to the cold. Either way, him walking miles on foot into the cold night wouldn’t feel comfortable. Sakuma was hoping that would help sway Miyoshi into staying.

“It’s early. What will we do to pass the time?”

“I could make dinner…”

Miyoshi raised one eyebrow. “With the contents of your kitchen? I should think not.”

Of _course_ he’d also checked that. “I can make miso.”

“And have nothing left for breakfast.”

“Are you staying for–”

“I meant _your_ breakfast. And I haven’t agreed to stay the night yet.”

“I’ll just eat at the restaurant. I usually do. Ah, by restaurant I mean–”

“The one you work in. I know.”

_How much have you observed me without making contact you bastard?_ “Then there’s no issue.” He stood up and went to the kitchen before Miyoshi could think of an actual reason to refuse.

Sakuma didn’t hear sounds of anyone following him, so he nearly jumped when he turned on the stove and heard a voice in his ear.

“What should I do?”

“I... what?” Sakuma turned to find Miyoshi right behind him. “No, guests don’t have to help.”

“Do you consider anyone that breaks into your home your guest?”

“You have an open invitation to come here anytime.”

“Well, your guest is bored. Give me something to do.”

“Are you really bored or just doubting my cooking skills? I’ve improved quite a lot since you last saw. And you could read a book, or watch television.”

“There’s nothing on that’s interesting to watch, and your small book collection is embarrassing. And I certainly hope you’ve improved, you couldn’t get worse than what I remember.”

Sakuma scowled despite his heart not being in it, but still pointed out the soybeans to Miyoshi.

“Pardon me if my book selection isn’t sophisticated enough for your taste, much less a library. And I do work in a restaurant, which you’re aware of. If anything, you’re the one whose skills I should be distrustful of. I don’t recall you cooking at all.”

“Why should I have? Fukumoto clearly enjoyed it, and there were others who were also into it. But I lived on my own for a year in Germany, and an art student turned art dealer would hardly be so well off that he could afford to eat out constantly. As for you, you work as a waiter, not as a cook.”

“And surviving your own cooking means little. So we’re at a stalemate.”

Miyoshi’s lips twitched. “I suppose,” he conceded, glancing at he soaking soybeans. “And now we’re also back to square one until these are ready.”

“I’d give you a tour of the house but it seems you’ve done that already.”

“Quite.”

“I can also give you a tour of the village.”

“Not interested. But speaking of that…” Miyoshi’s smile was sly. “You _do_ have a deck of cards, don’t you?”

*

Sakuma wasn’t sure how much time passed, and it didn’t really matter. The game was ridiculous; Miyoshi was cheating ferociously and yet he wasn’t winning every time because–

“You’re cheating!” Miyoshi said with mock horror, when Sakuma beat him with a hand of aces that shouldn’t be at all possible since they had just discarded one of those cards three rounds ago.

“As if I’d bother to so much as _try_ to play a clean game with _you_ ,” Sakuma replied dryly, slightly proud that he’d managed to do it against Miyoshi.

Miyoshi blinked, smiled and then laughed his breathless muffled laughter that meant he was honestly amused, and not faking it.

Sakuma hadn’t heard it for years. It sounded as good as he remembered. Miyoshi looked as good doing it as he remembered, too.

He was hopeless.

“You’ve changed,” Miyoshi said, controlling himself but still sounding amused.

“Of course I have, it’s been some time. You probably have, too.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Miyoshi’s expression began losing its sincerity and turning careful again. Sakuma’s mind raced to find something to stop it.

“I’ve been practicing my cheating on the men here.”

It seemed to work somewhat. Miyoshi was no longer unguarded, but he was clearly honestly amused and curious.

“Really? Have you lost all sense of shame completely, to cheat on poor unsuspecting peasants?”

“It makes things more interesting,” Sakuma admitted. “Besides, I don’t cheat to win, mostly.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, I try to make the game go the way I want, by trying to cheat someone into winning, or losing. It’s more challenging than cheating for myself and, well, it doesn’t leave me guilt stricken as long as I make sure everyone has a turn at winning.”

Miyoshi chuckled. “Only you would find an honorable way of cheating.”

Atmosphere light again, they continued, though both had to stop for a minute to laugh when six aces appeared into play.

After that Sakuma had to reluctantly end it so he could oversee dinner.

“Ah, so you have at least learned to cut up vegetables better,” Miyoshi said, watching Sakuma mince ingredients.

Sakuma grunted in reply, deciding the comment didn’t deserve a better retort.

“You know,” Miyoshi continued, glancing at the food, “with the size of your yard, you could easily grow some things of your own.”

“I didn’t have any reason to do it. It seemed silly, to use so much effort for one person alone. It would be another story, if I had company, now and then.”

Had he been too heavy handed?

“...The villagers,” Miyoshi pointed out, quietly.

“They have their own vegetable gardens.”

Miyoshi said nothing, and Sakuma didn’t like the resulting silence so he tried changing subjects.

“I know it must seem such a waste to you, me alone in this large house. I did think it was excessive but–”

“You chose it for the people.”

“I...yes. These days, it’s rare to find a place people won’t look at me askance for not being in the Army.”

“You made a wise choice.”

Sakuma felt tension leave him he hadn’t even realized he hadn’t even realized he had.

He let out a breath. “Thank you.”

Miyoshi frowned. “What for?”

“Living alone in this large space. Barely utilizing it to the point I lend it to the villagers now and then... it made me feel slightly guilty. Like I shouldn't be here.”

“Ridiculous. If you bought it legally it’s yours. You’re not obligated to use every inch of it.”

He supposed. But still, he couldn’t help but wonder, now and then, when he glanced at all the unused space in it. It was good to have someone tell him he had a right to this.

Silence stretched between them again as both concentrated on dinner. This time, however, Sakuma let it be, as it felt comfortable.

The miso turned out fine. Or so Sakuma assumed, since Miyoshi was eating without complaint. He even finished faster than Sakuma, though he refused seconds.

“Hm, you know,” Miyoshi began, watching Sakuma eat from across the table, “since you’re now good at cheating, perhaps we could raise the stakes if I visit again.”

_You say ‘if’ but you’re clearly considering doing it._ Sakuma tried to not let his excitement show. “Like what?”

Miyoshi affected his most unconcerned look as he said, “Have you ever heard of strip poker?”

He had to have timed it when Sakuma had food in his mouth. Had to. Sakuma choked and needed a minute to recover.

“By that reaction, it seems you have. So? Would you consider that sort of poker another time?”

Miyoshi had refused to so much as remove his trenchcoat twice but was now suggesting stripping? Did he think he could beat Sakuma so thoroughly despite his blatant cheating that he wouldn’t need to remove one single article of clothing?

What was he suggesting, really? What did he think he was offering Sakuma? The chance to make a fool of himself, ogling Miyoshi’s body? Or–

_Oh._

If he could get Miyoshi to strip, to remove his upper clothing, he’d be able to see if there were any scars on him.

He looked at Miyoshi. Judging by the glint in his eyes, he knew Sakuma had understood.

His mouth was dry, but still Sakuma tried to force some words out. “If... that’s fine by you, I think i wouldn’t mind raising the stakes like that.”

Miyoshi didn’t look surprised. “We’ll see, then,” he said lightly, then stood up and took his finished plate to the kitchen.

“You don’t need to clean–” Sakuma began to call out, but gave up when he heard the sound of running water.

He sighed and finished his own dinner just as Miyoshi was coming back. For a moment Sakuma thought he might offer to take his plate too, but Miyoshi didn’t.

By the time Sakuma finished washing it and came back, he found Miyoshi already setting up two futons. Again, they were far apart. Again, Miyoshi didn’t change from out of his clothes.

There was nothing else to say, so Sakuma simply got ready for bed.

It dawned on him he didn’t have a spare toothbrush. He couldn’t imagine Miyoshi agreeing to share his, but he had to at least offer.

Unsurprisingly, it was met with contempt. “Oh my,” Miyoshi said derisively, “you already want to share toothbrushes? Aren’t we going a little too fast here?”

Sakuma ignored the suggestiveness. “I’m simply making an offer.”

“I can use my fingers, thank you very much,” Miyoshi said, managing to make the thank you not sound grateful at all.

Giving up with a sigh, Sakuma simply changed clothing and laid down as Miyoshi made use of the bathroom before turning off the lights and going to his own futon.

He laid down in the darkness, hoping sleep would claim him, but instead he found himself straining to hear the sound of Miyoshi’s quiet breathing.

After five minutes, he couldn’t help himself and whispered.

“Are you still awake?”

For a minute, it didn’t seem like there would be a reply, but then Miyoshi answered.

“Even if I wasn’t, I’d have woken up. What is it?”

“Can I go to D-Agency and ask them why they kept me in the dark?”

“I don’t see why you couldn’t.”

“Let me rephrase that: if I do, will you still visit again?”

Another pause. “I don’t want them knowing I contacted you.”

“I’ll lie.”

A chuckle. “You think you’re that good?”

“I can give them a half truth, then. I’ll say that the anniversary of your death made me think back to that time and I began wondering if there was more to the whole thing than what they told me.”

“...When would you go there?”

“I don’t really have a specific day in mind, and my schedule isn’t exactly full.”

“Go two Wednesdays from now.”

“Why?”

“Do you know…”

Miyoshi gave him an address. Sakuma didn’t recognize the number, but the street was one at the other side of Tokyo, away from D-Agency.

“I think I can find that. What about it?”

“There’s a patisserie in that address. It’s quite good. On Tuesday of that week they usually acquire fresh ingredients. The cakes on Wednesday will be best. Their madeleines are especially good.”

Sakuma tried not to think on what Miyoshi might be suggesting. He might just want to open Sakuma’s tastes for new things, after all. “I’ll go there. That day... If that is, you say you’ll still come back.”

“I might or I might not. You going to D-Agency and asking them about their motive won’t change that. So long as you manage to keep this from them.”

“I will.” He would. He couldn’t afford not to.

“...One more thing.”

Sakuma was surprised. “Yes?”

“I believe I know what their motivation was, for not telling you they thought the corpse wasn’t me.” There was a pause, as if Miyoshi was hesitating. “I’d have done the same. I don’t think they meant to hurt you.”

That only made Sakuma angry. “Whatever their intentions, that wasn’t the end result,” he said bitterly.

Miyoshi said nothing and they lapsed into silence again.

This time, Sakuma fell asleep.

*

He was alone the next morning. The extra futon once again neatly piled inside its usual place.

Sakuma went to the kitchen. He blinked. There was a note stuck to the kitchen sink, paper ripped from the letter drafts Sakuma kept.

It said: _Your cooking has improved, after all. Only the cooking._

He smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * **Important announcement** : Holidays are here. I’m going on a trip in a few hours which sadly means I won’t have time/means to write chapters for two weeks. Due to the length of High Card, I had to cut this chapter short so i could publish something before I left. I hope this is better than nothing.
> 
> *Next chapter Sakuma will be meeting the other spies. He would have done so already, if not for the lack of time.


	5. Chapter 5

Sakuma waited and, the second Wednesday since Miyoshi’s last visit, left for Tokyo at the earliest possible time.

It was a chilly day, which forced him to put on a scarf and warmer clothing for the long trek to the nearest train station, despite knowing that he’d end up needing to take off the excess warmth when he reached Tokyo.

On the long way there, Sakuma wondered what he should do first: visit the patisserie Miyoshi had spoken about, or D-Agency.

He decided to go to the latter first. He doubted the visit would take long, or, in fact, if the spies that weren’t on missions would even be willing to welcome him.

*

_His farewell is nonexistent. He had expected nothing different._

_He is surprised at how little animosity he feels for Lt. Col. Yuuki as he leaves his office for the last time. Then again, Sakuma understands that he has no one to blame but himself; if he’s displeased with how things are done, he only has his own misguided expectations to blame, as Lt. Col. Yuuki had never made any false promises._

_There is also the fact the man had given Sakuma an exit route Sakuma had never expected, much less thought possible for Lt. Col. Yuuki to hand out._

_A grave internal injury, complete discharge from any military services._

_Sakuma understands this wasn’t truly kindness. Certainly, he’d come to learn that defection from the Agency meant immediate reassignment to the frontlines in some faraway land, where people wouldn’t question backgrounds and where the spy would have little contact with anyone of notice. And the chances of survival were…_

_The memory of Odagiri comes to his mind and Sakuma shies away from it. He doesn’t know what happened to the man, so there is always the possibility that he’d survived._

_If Sakuma had been given a reprieve from a similar situation, it is likely only because of his peculiar position. Unlike Odagiri -or whichever had been his real name- Sakuma had never defected from the Imperial Japanese Army into D-Agency. At least not formally. He’d been Lt. Col. Yuuki’s double spy inside it._

_As such, Lt. Col. Yuuki could not simply send him to the frontlines given supposedly he was not his boss. A request for his removal would be deemed suspicious, and if Sakuma decided to reveal the truth to his superiors as a means to lash out at D-Agency...the General Staff Office would not take the news lightly._

_A wound discharge made more sense, then. Sakuma could have gotten wounded while following the spies, and it ensured Sakuma would end up away from the Army, and not at all bitter._

_With that, his last memory of Lt. Col. Yuuki is a cordial one._

_As he descends the D-Agency stairs for what will likely be the last time, Sakuma hears sounds coming from the kitchen. He doesn’t go there. He’s deserting them; they will have nothing to say to him and he certainly doesn’t deserve any goodbyes._

_Which is why he initially doesn’t acknowledge someone calling out his name. He only takes heed of it when the voice calling him is practically right behind him, and he jolts._

_“Finally,” Hatano says, when Sakuma spins around to face him. “Has termination made you deaf?”_

_“Hatano,” Sakuma hesitantly says, not sure how to continue._

_“There’s a bet going on,” Hatano explains, and Sakuma is hardly surprised; they always have a bet going. “What excuse did he give for your military discharge?”_

_Sakuma hadn’t realized he would get a full discharge until Lt. Col. Yuuki had shown him the paper just minutes ago. However, he’s past the point where he can be surprised that the others had already figured out that would be his exit._

_“Here.” He lets Hatano read the paper for himself. “Who won?”_

_“Tazaki,” Hatano says with a sigh handing the paper back and placing his hands in the usual spot behind his head._

_“I’ve always wondered, was there ever a bet on how long I’d last?”_

_“Initially, yes. Though none of us bet nearly as much as you did. Most of us assumed you’d hightail out of here in a matter of weeks.”_

_Sakuma realizes he feels no pride in the fact that it took him so much longer than that. It feels like the time he took was due to stupidity, not resilience._

_Hatano watches him and, although his next words are said nonchalantly, his eyes betray how he’s aware of the weight of them._

_“Miyoshi was the one who was closest to winning; he thought you could last a few months.”_

_Sakuma manages to refrain from flinching. “I’m sure he’s gloating about it in the afterlife. If there is one.”_

_“Hm,” Hatano grunts and his gaze turns sharper. Sakuma’s instincts tell him he’s about to finally voice the real reason he bothered to interact with Sakuma, and it might not be pleasant._

_He’s correct._

_“Sakuma, are you leaving us because he died?”_

_Sakuma starts, and finds he can’t answer immediately as his throat has gone dry._

_“No,” he manages eventually. Hatano’s eyes narrow slightly._

_“Are you saying that because you believe it’s the correct answer?”_

_“...Fine. If you must know, he’s not most of my reason to do it but he’s certainly part of it.”_

_“What is your reason?”_

_He doubts there is any reason that Hatano wouldn’t look down on, so Sakuma doesn’t bother to try and lie. “I was foolish. I didn’t want to be used, and believe that since D-Agency didn’t preach the blind following of a leader or ideals, that that would mean my freedom. That, and the fact that it would give me a way out of my military duties, somewhat. But since joining and training I’ve understood I’m not any less a pawn than I was before._

_“We must spy on people, intercept plans and end operations based on what we’re ordered, regardless of our own beliefs. In the end, the only difference between us and the soldiers are the forms our fighting takes place and that we know we are pawns.” Sakuma chuckles dryly. “I wonder if I might have been better off if I had remained believing in everything I was told.”_

_Hatano ignores the last remark. “So, you realized this wasn’t the idealistic place you fantasized about, and now with Miyoshi dead you lost the last shred of incentive to remain here.”_

_He doesn’t like the way Hatano summarizes a serious decision he reflected on for a week, but Sakuma supposes he can’t complain._

_“Are you very disappointed my reasoning has a sentimental side to it, or did you already expect that?”_

_“It’s certainly a better resolve than the one who left to chase someone he had barely met,” Hatano says acidly, and Sakuma momentarily wishes he’d been closer to Odagiri before he left; he’s certain the man had more reasons than that for leaving and would have liked to discuss it with him._

_The two men with military backgrounds were the ones to opt to leave; perhaps their type really wasn't made for spy work._

_Hatano isn’t done speaking, and his next words are surprising, to say the least._

_“Your case, should you have left solely because of Miyoshi, would have been different.”_

_“You wouldn’t have begrudged me for leaving solely out of a broken heart?”_

_Hatano’s replying shrug is too nonchalant._

_“No...I wouldn’t have,” he says, voice lower, and his eyes briefly glance to the stairs._

Ah. _Sakuma understands now. If anyone left D-Agency for that reason alone, it would be Hatano._

_He knows exactly who Hatano holds so dear in his heart. He’d once been told offhandedly he wasn’t the first to want to have an inside romance and Sakuma had paid attention after that._

_Despite that, Sakuma is still slightly surprised that Hatano would be so sentimental. Then again, maybe he should have expected as much; Hatano was professional and effective, but he was hardly cold and unaffected outside of that._

_“I...see,” Sakuma replies and says nothing else. He wants to have a conversation on it, but feels Hatano has already revealed too much and will have no interest on saying anything further._

_“It seems you do. Now excuse me, I have a bet to lose. This time, try to not be so stupid before joining something.” Hatano doesn’t wait for a reply, turning around and walking away._

_Sakuma chuckles and smiles thinly. It was much more than he’d expected as a goodbye._

_He meets no one else as he leaves._

*

Tokyo was much warmer as expected, and Sakuma ended up removing the scarf before he’d even properly left the station.

The D-Agency building and the surrounding neighborhood hadn’t changed more than expected. Sakuma could see the effects of war on the many closed shops and the state of disrepair of most places, D-Agency included.

_Do the spies still have no funding or are they simply allowing the building to deteriorate to avoid suspicion?_

Sakuma hesitated briefly at the entrance. He might not be welcome anymore. He didn’t have a right to that…

He recalled how they’d lied to him and his hesitation was replaced by anger.

Entering was easy as they never locked the doors for the sake of their disguise as a simple study society, and Sakuma walked to the kitchen.

He found Fukumoto there, in an apron cooking something, and for a moment Sakuma felt like no time had ever passed.

Fukumoto glanced at him. He paused momentarily but recovered with speed and continued to go about his chores as if Sakuma being there wasn’t completely out of the norm.

“Tea?” Fukumoto asked, naturally recalling Sakuma’s preference for that over coffee or alcohol at this time of day. Sakuma could feel his anger ebbing at the calming presence that was Fukumoto.

“No, thank you,” Sakuma replied. “How things been?”

“The usual,” Fukumoto said without any inflection, and Sakuma had expected nothing more. “What can we do for you?”

“I’ve been reflecting on some things and wanted to ask something.”

“Only Amari, Kaminaga and I are currently here. And Lt. Col. Yuuki.”

Sakuma tried to curb his disappointment; he’d been hoping Hatano had been present as he might be the one less unwilling to answer him. Fukumoto would have to do.

“It’s fine, I believe you might be able to answer me.”

Fukumoto said nothing, concentrating on whatever he was preparing, and Sakuma took it a sign he could continue.

“The anniversary of...Miyoshi’s death had me recalling the circumstances of it and made me realize something. Fukumoto, why did none of you tell me the corpse we cremated in Germany was a fake?”

“Why are you so certain it was?”

Sakuma flinched, and was glad Fukumoto had his back to him. He shouldn’t have said it with so much conviction since he couldn't reveal it was due to having see Miyoshi alive.

“Just...everything seems more logical if I consider that the body was someone else’s, and it explains why I wasn’t even allowed to get near it. And if I’m right...I want to know why I wasn’t told about it, and even lied to.”

“Miyoshi is dead.”

 _I know that’s a lie._ “So he died elsewhere since then?”

“...”

“Sakuma,” a new voice called out, and Sakuma turned to find Amari entering the kitchen. Like Fukumoto, he looked much the same. “Fukumoto is quite busy right now. Rather than bother him, why don’t you come with me? We’ll go somewhere more comfortable.”

Meaning, Amari wanted to speak to him privately, or else he’d have simply answered Sakuma right there. Sakuma nodded, to which Amari then made a motion that he follow him, and walked away.

*

Amari ended up taking him to the nearest tea shop and ordering something for the both of them. On the way, he politely asked Sakuma about his current situation and even managed to look honestly curious about his house. Despite that, he deflected questions about D-Agency’s situation.

It was only when their tea had arrived that Amari finally broached the subject of Miyoshi.

“So, you were unable to move on from Miyoshi,” he said, but not unkindly.

“No, and with the anniversary I began to mull over all that happened…”

“I heard you tell Fukumoto.” Amari sighed. “Tell me, do you know where he is right now?”

“...No,” Sakuma admitted, and since it was true, he was able to look Amari squarely in the eyes as he said it.

“How do you know if he’s even still alive, then?”

 _Because he showed up at my house more than once_. Sakuma feared anything he said would betray him, so he remained silent and thankfully Amari took it as an answer.

“Even if he didn’t die at that time, he could have died since then, and you have no means of knowing.”

Hearing that troubled Sakuma, because although he knew Miyoshi had been some weeks ago, he didn't know what Miyoshi did when he wasn’t visiting, or even where he stayed. Miyoshi could die at any moment and Sakuma would never even know if something was wrong of if he simply got tired of seeing Sakuma.

His current happiness was precarious, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Amari saw his worried expression and nodded. “That’s right. You don’t know what happened to him, and haven’t seen him since then, he might as well be dead to you.”

“But-”

“And if he hasn’t resurfaced either, it means he wants to be dead to you.”

Except he had, so what did that mean? It galled Sakuma that he couldn’t ask Amari or anyone else.

“Maybe I don’t care what he wants me to think,” Sakuma said, and Amari chuckled. “You should have still told me the truth, or at least not lied so I could come to it on my own.”

Amari shrugged. “There was a consensus that we would simply be making things easier by ensuring you believed so then. If you hadn’t, you might have spent the last year trying to search for him.”

“I should have been the one to decide what to do. If knowing the truth led me to more unrest...that would have been fine. If I preferred to live a lie for the sake of my peace of mind, I would never have left the Army in the first place, no matter how they used me.”

Amari said nothing, and Sakuma realized he’d never hear an apology for their actions. Likely they had wanted to avoid Sakuma knowing for their own sakes, so that they wouldn’t have to deal with a colleague focused on finding Miyoshi and not on the missions. And if there _had_ been even a sliver of worry for Sakuma amidst their reasoning...they wouldn’t admit to it.

Sighing in frustration, Sakuma said, “You spoke as if he hasn’t gone back to D-Agency after I left.”

“That’s right.”

Amari stating that meant little; he could easily be lying.

Sakuma frowned and pointed it out “That makes no sense. It makes more sense for you to be lying to me. Miyoshi isn’t like Odagiri, the work he did in D-Agency was everything to him.”

“Perhaps while in Germany he found something else more dear to him. Perhaps he died shortly after faking his death. Perhaps I really am lying to you about lack of contact from him or…”

“Or?”

Amari smiled cryptically. “Or maybe there’s yet another reason. But maybe you should figure that out for yourself. Personally, I think you should forget this and move on. One way or another, he didn’t want to be part of your life any longer. I honestly believe thinking of him as deceased is the best thing you can do. Miyoshi died. That is a truth, regardless of details.”

That last part seemed important, and had more weight than it might seem at a glance. Sakuma wanted to ask about it, but Amari must have noticed and began speaking again before he could.

“Now, I do believe forgetting and moving on is what you should do, but often it isn’t that easy, not when you have too many unanswered questions, correct?”

There was a glint in his eyes that meant this was now business to Amari. Curious and wary, Sakuma nodded.

“Would it ease your mind a little if you could at least have some general knowledge of the circumstances of Maki’s death?”

“All I know is that he died in a freak train accident. So D-Agency gathered more details on that?”

“Of course. Do you still recall the reason why I suggested the trip to Germany?”

_“More than that.” It’s Amari this time. “We need to verify if it’s indeed still possible to send someone else over, or if these Germans are too dangerous to risk sending another spy. Send one of us ahead tomorrow. That person will survey the situation and, depending on results, we’ll decide what to do when the others arrive later.”_

“Yes.”

“Good. Part of what needed to be done to ascertain the gravity of the situation was, naturally, to minutely study the circumstances surrounding Maki. That included a thorough report on his death, to fully determine if foul play was involved or not. Even if the answer is that it indeed was a simple accident, would it interest you to know?”

“Yes, yes it would. Even if it was just an accident, that will simply mean Miyoshi might not have been in too much danger afterwards. I want to be certain. And you’ll want something in exchange for that information, what is it?”

Amari smiled brightly and reached inside his coat pocket, taking out a photo and placing it on the table face down.

“You told me you are unencumbered by family or friends, and your house is spacious.”

Sakuma blinked; so even asking about his home had had an ulterior motive to Amari. He reached for the photo, pulling it close to him and turning it around.

“In that scenario, it won't trouble you to fulfill my request. And it’ll be temporary, a year or so...”

Sakuma was hardly listening, staring at the photo in complete surprise. In it was Amari and-

*

Mind still befuddled by Amari’s completely unexpected proposal, Sakuma still managed to go all the way to the other side of the city and find his way to Miyoshi’s patisserie.

It was small, but judging by the quality of the interior decorations, Sakuma could tell it would be expensive. He made his way to the counter, not sure exactly what to order, when someone tapped his shoulder.

He turned around, Miyoshi was behind him. He was finally wearing a suit and not a trenchcoat, and a large brimmed hat that likely hid his face easily if he walked with his head down.

“You took a while,” he said, before walking away to a table half hidden in a corner.

“My prior engagement took an unexpected turn,” Sakuma explained, sitting down across from him. A waitress came to them, and Miyoshi made Sakuma’s order for him. Sakuma didn’t mind, focused on analyzing Miyoshi instead.

The suit wasn’t his usual one. It was a bland dark gray color and not as well fitting as it could have been.

“Was your engagement D-Agency?”

Sakuma tried focusing on his face. “Yes.”

“And did you manage to get any answers?”

“No,” he sighed. “Just that if you didn’t reappear, then you wanted to be considered dead anyway.”

“Precisely. They likely didn’t tell you otherwise to avoid unnecessary drama. You should consider it a kindness.”

Sakuma scowled. “I don’t think it’s kind for others to decide what I can or can’t handle or accept. They should have told me.”

Miyoshi pursed his mouth slightly. “That is foolish. You would have gained nothing with that knowledge. But more importantly, what was so unexpected that made you take longer to leave?”

“Amari...made a proposal.”

Miyoshi looked mildly curious now. “What for?”

“The report he made on the circumstances of your...of Maki’s death.”

Miyoshi scoffed then quieted as the waitress came back with a piece of cake for Sakuma. When she left again, he shook his head.

“Whatever you've agreed to, you’ll be disappointed, or mostly so.”

“So there _is_ something interesting about it? And I haven’t agreed to it yet.”

“Not much. And even if you notice it, it alone will give you no answers. Why haven’t you agreed yet?”

“It’s fine, I want to see read it regardless. And I haven’t accepted yet because I wanted your permission first.”

“For such a simple thing? You have it. It might be interesting to see what you take from it. But how did you excuse the need to think before you reply to Amari, and what does he want from you, that he proposed this in the first place?”

Sakuma hesitated, and took the photo Amari had handed him from his inside coat, handing it to Miyoshi.

Miyoshi’s face froze.

“Who is this child in his arms?”

“She’s not his.”

“Obviously not, judging by his looks and clothing, as well as the age of this photo paper, this is during his time at D-Agency. And he’s on a cruise ship,” Miyoshi said, analyzing the little that could be seen in the photograph. “He would hardly have had time to deviate from a mission to board one. Therefore, he’s on a cruise ship for a mission, and met this child there. Of course, there is the possibility for her to be his, he and her caretaker maneuvered to meet during his mission, but that seems less probable. However, Lt. Col. Yuuki liked to avoid choosing men that would have had any strong emotional ties to people still alive. If Amari had a child he held dear, he wouldn’t have made the cut.”

“...I see,” Sakuma said. Miyoshi seemed as sharp as he’d been. “Like I said, he confirmed she isn’t his. He said nothing else, however, since she wasn’t the focus of the deal.”

“I should hope not. What was?”

“Do you see the dog at his feet?”

“I’m not blind, so yes.”

“His name is Frate. Amari wants me to take care of him for a year or two.”

“...”

Miyoshi being speechless was so rare that Sakuma eagerly drank the sight of it rather than try to continue the conversation. It didn’t last long; Miyoshi soon recovered.

“So, Amari is planning to leave D-Agency.”

Sakuma nodded, glad he had come to the same conclusion earlier. “I think so. I asked if he needed me to find a permanent residence for the dog and he assured me the best scenario would be if I took him in for a limited time. However...I don’t understand, usually leaving D-Agency means being assigned elsewhere, why is Amari certain that if he leaves in a year or two, he’ll be in a position to take care of a dog?”

“Amari has likely negotiated with Lt. Col. Yuuki to leave on his own terms. He has probably been planning this for a while, perhaps he went to Col. Lt. Yuuki and agreed to remain for a specific number of years and achieve a number of results. It’s not as if that many spies have left so far, and there was hardly people before us to give precedent, so it’s not strange that someone willing to discuss a layoff and wait could gain better terms.”

“It’s just surprising to me that Lt. Col. Yuuki would be willing to leave someone among the spies that has their focus on something outside of D-Agency.”

“Clearly he judged Amari’s judgement to not be compromised.” Miyoshi shrugged. “If anything, it might make Amari his best spy during this period.”

“How so?”

“If Amari agreed to achieve a certain level of results to receive his ideal exoneration, he’ll certainly come through. Moreover, he’ll be the least likely to be bought out by an enemy, or lose himself on a mission. If Lt. Col. Yuuki plays his cards right, he’ll be able to take more of Amari now than he would have if Amari hadn’t wanted to leave eventually. Afterall,” Miyoshi flashed him a wry smile, “spies usually don’t last too long.”

Sakuma opened his mouth, closed it, came to a sudden decision and risked asking, “How did your dismissal go? That is, have you been dismissed? I mean, are you still working for D-Agency, or are you hiding from-”

Miyoshi cut him short by making a dismissive motion with his hand.

“I’m not telling you that. You might be capable of figuring it out yourself, however. Now, back to the matter at hand, you don’t want the dog?”

Frustrated, Sakuma let out a breath. “I don’t really care, either way. I do have the space and time to take care of one, so that isn’t an issue.”

“You’ll have to take some bare minimum care of that yard of yours, to ensure there is nothing hiding in that place that might hurt him. With how tall and unkempt the grass was, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“I know, I know. I’ll do something about it if I take him in.”

“And go ahead and build an aviary for when Tazaki hands you his old pigeons in exchange for more information.”

Sakuma groaned. “I don’t think I’ll let things go that far.” Unless Tazaki had some very interesting information to give him. How much would an aviary cost?

Miyoshi took one look at him and shook his head in disbelief. “You’re already considering it.”

“Like I said, I have the time and the space so if it’s an advantage to me…”

“If so, why haven’t you accepted yet?”

“Obviously, I needed to ask you. I don’t want to get this, or any other dog, and find out you’ll refuse to come back because of it. How do you feel about one? It would eliminate the element of surprise next time you appeared unannounced.”

Miyoshi gave him a disparaging look. “I’m not sure how far you reached in your training, but if I couldn’t bypass dogs, I wouldn’t make a very good spy.”

Vaguely, Sakuma recalled he had, in fact, received lessons on animals and had simply forgotten it. He silently chided himself; he hated failing in front of Miyoshi.

“Then,” he said, trying to move on from it, “if it won’t stop you for that reason, would you refuse to come because you dislike dogs?”

Before replying, Miyoshi glanced at the image again. He shrugged.

“I have nothing against them. They’re silly creatures, giving their love and loyalty to their owners for so little. However, they’re not insufferable like cats. I can at least understand why people would like dogs as companions.”

Sakuma felt his lips twitching upwards into a smile; Miyoshi was very vocal when it came to criticizing and declaring his dislike for things, but he rarely spoke of anything he liked. This might have been as close as he was willing to admit that he liked dogs.

“Cats aren’t so bad,” he said weakly. He preferred them to dogs, in fact, but Miyoshi wouldn’t like hearing that.

Or that Sakuma had equaled him to a cat earlier on.

*

_“I need some time to think,” Sakuma finally says. He has no love for dogs, but nothing against them either, and respects their loyalty. However, he needs Miyoshi’s input first. He wishes he knew if Miyoshi would be meeting him on the patisserie or not._

_Amari doesn’t look suspicious at the words, but Sakuma can tell that he is._

_“Why?”_

_“Ah...there’s...well...there’s this stray cat that visits me sometimes. I need to think this through, I don’t want any issues between the dog and the cat.”_

_Sakuma does his best to sound sincere and keep a steady gaze as he says it. It helps that in his mind, his statement isn’t far from the truth._

_“...You must be quite attached to this cat, then,” Amari says._

_“Very.”_

*

“They are terrible creatures,” Miyoshi insisted, then put the photograph down and push it towards Sakuma. “Get the dog if you want. There are a myriad of reasons I might not visit anymore, but a dog won’t be one of them. Now, how are you going to go about acquiring the appropriate goods a dog would need? Food, bed, toys?”

Sakuma ducked his head and bit his lower lip to seem as if he was thinking, but in truth it was to hide yet another smile. Miyoshi definitely liked dogs, or else he wouldn’t be bothering himself with Frate’s situation.

“Most of my neighbors have dogs, I’ll ask around for their old stuff, buy whatever is needed after that and then come get Frate later.”

“Is he currently in a kennel or someone’s home?”

“Kennel. It’s why Amari wants me to take him; he doesn’t want someone else adopting him, or for the kennel to sacrifice him.”

“If he’s in a kennel even an unprepared home might be more enjoyable for him. Buy food for him now and take the dog with you already.”

_Clearly you care more than I do._

“Stay with me a while,” Sakuma blurted out before he could stop himself. Miyoshi’s face went blank and Sakuma hastily tried to salvage the situation. “Just for a few days. For the dog’s sake.”

“No. You brought this on yourself; I’m not going to help you deal with it. Besides, I’m leaving Japan soon.”

It was the first time Miyoshi had revealed anything of what he did when not with Sakuma. Frustratingly, it meant little; Sakuma didn’t know where, when and why he was leaving, or for how long. He didn’t know if this was a common occurrence, spur of the moment or an emergency. Even Miyoshi’s clothes weren’t revealing his destination; Miyoshi hadn't said he’d be travelling directly from the patisserie, or even that same day.

And Miyoshi most likely knew this tidbit of information was useless, which is why he was fine in revealing it in the first place.

“With that settled, how was your cake?”

Sakuma took a moment to understand the question and looked down at his now empty plate. He had no idea.

“I suppose it was good.”

“Just good? Very well, let’s have you try something else to see what your limited palate can appreciate.”

*

Time passed unexpectedly.

Miyoshi seemed to enjoy going through the menu and watching Sakuma try out different foods while he went off about them. The choices he picked for Sakuma to try out seemed random until Sakuma began noticing that, little by little, the taste of what was put in front of him became more consistently enjoyable. Miyoshi was analyzing what he said he liked and choosing accordingly.

Upon realizing that, Sakuma requested he instead call for what Miyoshi liked, since he was curious.

Miyoshi seemed pleased about it, though Sakuma couldn’t tell if it was because he had figured out what Miyoshi had been doing, or if it was simply that Miyoshi preferred the focus to be on his interests.

Time passed some more.

Miyoshi laughed at one point, seeing Sakuma make a face at a specially salty chocolate cremeux Miyoshi claimed to like, though Sakuma had his comeuppance when he found out the patisserie had daifuku, somehow convinced Miyoshi to taste one and had the chance to watch Miyoshi force himself to eat it all because it would be beneath him to spit it out.

The most disappointing one turned out to be the western treat called ‘doughnuts’.

“This is like sata andagi, only not deep fried,” Sakuma said, quickly setting down the latest offering.

“Is that so? I’ve never eaten those.”

“And now I know you aren’t from Okinawa.”

“You aren’t either, how did you come by them?”

“There was a sweet shop near my house and the owner was from Okinawa, he made them a lot. Hm, I should make them back at home. They’ll be good in the cold.”

“Tell me if it doesn’t end in disaster.”

“Better yet, I’ll have you try it. They’re easy to do, I can make them next time you come by.”

“I should warn you, food poisoning is one reason that will make me stop returning.”

“I don’t know why you insist in thinking I’m not good at this.”

“I’ve only ever seen you do basics, pardon me for questioning your yet unseen culinary expertize.”

“I’ll do fine, you’ll see.”

“Well, it’s true I’m currently more worried about the dog then the food.”

“...I will admit I’ve never had a pet before and have no clue how to go about this.”

“The poor creature. Then again, that may be best for you; if you fail to take care of an animal, Amari won't try to saddle you with that child.”

“What? You think he’d ask me to take care of that child?”

“Did he tell you what became of her?”

“...No.”

“Then it is a possibility. And you certainly have enough questions that he will have sufficient bargaining chips to convince you to take her.”

Sakuma closed his eyes, feeling a headache coming just at the possibility of being saddled with a small child. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, I doubt-”

He didn’t get to finish, words cut by a sudden onslaught of cold wind in his back. Surprised he turned around, towards the door of the patisserie, and realized someone had just walked outside. The brief moment of having the door open had brought the chilly wind inside.

Sakuma blinked; he hadn’t noticed but he and Miyoshi were now the last customers and, outside, daylight was fading and the weather taking a turn for the worse.

“It’s time to end this,” he heard Miyoshi say softly, and turned back to see him standing up and going to the counter.

Sakuma hastily followed, getting out his wallet, but Miyoshi made a dismissive motion towards it.

“No need, I’m paying.”

“I don’t need charity,” Sakuma insisted. “Let me pay my part.” They had eaten a lot, and he doubted the food was cheap.

“It’s not charity, I simply don’t want to waste any time sorting out how much we would have to pay individually. And I’m not in need of money either,” Miyoshi said, taking out a number of high bills from his wallet and handing them over to the cashier.

Annoyed as he was for what seemed to be charity, no matter what Miyoshi claimed, Sakuma had at least gained the knowledge that whatever Miyoshi was doing now, he truly did seem to be well off.

_Is he really not with D-Agency then? When I was still there, funding was enough of an issue that he wouldn’t have had that much money on him to waste on non-mission related matters. Unless the budget has drastically increased since then, Miyoshi must have at least another source of income, if not truly left them altogether..._

As soon as they walked outside, they were hit by a cold wind. It didn’t bother Sakuma too much as he was now becoming used to worst weather, but Miyoshi…

If the temperature bothered Miyoshi, he was refusing to show it. Still, Sakuma felt he might be cold; he’d certainly been wearing much warmer clothes when visiting him and never looking bothered by the heat then, and his current suit looked too light for the weather. Not to mention, it left his neck open to the wind’s bite.

Before he could second guess himself or worse, have Miyoshi notice what he was planning to do, Sakuma unraveled the scarf he’d been carrying in his arms.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Miyoshi asked warily asked as Sakuma turned to him and lifted the scarf at his neck height.

Sakuma considered it a good sign Miyoshi was making inquiries without any motion to stop him, and looped the scarf around his neck. “You’re less protected than I am, you might get cold.”

“...I can handle the cold,” Miyoshi said testily and, despite having made no motion to stop Sakuma from putting it on him, Miyoshi now grabbed at the scarf as if to remove it.

Sakuma stopped it by Grabbing Miyoshi’s wrist. “Just because you can doesn’t mean you have to.”

“I don’t need your charity.”

“Neither did I. This isn’t charity: you paid my part so I’m giving...no, _loaning_ you this in return.”

Miyoshi raised one eyebrow. “Paying your part only gives me the right to a _loan_?”

“Do you want the scarf permanently?”

“I don’t want it for even a minute.”

“Then I’m only loaning it to you. You’ll need to give it back eventually.”

Miyoshi blinked, then chuckled. “Ah, and I suppose you’ll tell me it must be returned personally?”

Sakuma smiled. “That’s right. I don’t trust the postal service.”

“If they lose it, I could simply send another.”

“And how will you know if they have arrived or not if you don’t visit me to verify it?”

Miyoshi’s eyes sparkled with amusement he couldn’t quite keep out of his voice. “I’m _appalled_ at how transparent you are.”

“Why are you assuming I was trying to be otherwise?”

Miyoshi chuckled again. He pried Sakuma’s hand off his own but instead of removing the scarf, adjusted it.

“This is quite low quality. Surely you have sufficient savings to buy better clothing?”

“I don’t really care about quality so long as it does its job.”

“That’s a foolish way of thinking; a higher end product will last longer and be better. Well, I suppose it’ll do.”

Sakuma looked at him. The scarf was a dull, faded dark red, but Miyoshi’s attire was so nondescript it added life to him. But not enough that anyone would give Miyoshi a second glance if they passed him by. He wondered if Miyoshi had considered that. Probably.

“I see. Well, I need to go tell Amari I’ve decided to take in his dog.”

“And I’ll be leaving in the opposite direction. Be careful so you don’t take in more than you can handle,” Miyoshi said, turned around and walked away.

Sakuma watched him leave and quickly discarded trying to follow him; Miyoshi would notice and things wouldn’t end well.

And so, Sakuma took the path back to D-Agency, having acquired a dog in pursuit of Miyoshi.

*

The weather didn’t improve the next day and although Miyoshi did have his own set of scarves, he chose to continue to wear Sakuma’s.

It wasn’t a matter of sentiment, of course not; it was simply that despite how distinguishing he’d ensured his clothes were, a different accessory would improve his chances of not being recognized.

If anything, he despised the scarf; it felt heavy around him, psychologically. As if Sakuma’s own arms were wrapping around his neck.

However, as much as Miyoshi was troubled by the sensation, he was adamant to wear it; he refused to have his actions swayed by psychological perturbations.

And he managed it, until the train to Nagasaki arrived.

He stopped himself before boarding it.

Absurd and illogical as it was, Miyoshi found himself hesitating to go on. Ridiculous guilt had overcome him; he did not want to take Sakuma’s scarf with him on his usual activities.

It was mindless emotional anxiety. Sakuma wouldn’t know, and even if he did, that the scarf had been there would not be the issue at all.

But to Miyoshi the scarf would be like a bridge between two places he did not want communicating, even if just inside his mind. His unnecessary visits to Sakuma, as painful as they ultimately were, should not be tarnished by associating them with...the rest.

Objectively, he was able to analyze his actions wouldn’t do him well in the long run. Keeping the situations separate didn’t mean they both didn’t exist in him. Yet despite his training he knew a physical reminder like the scarf would be detrimental to his peace of mind, and break the illusion of separate circumstances he’d encased his interactions with Sakuma in.

Miyoshi shuddered. How low had he fallen that his actions were now being centered on sentiment? Worse, that he had nothing else but sentiment.

With a deep breath, Miyoshi took a step back and slowly moved away from the train, weaving through the crowd in a way to not seem conspicuous, or at least not more than not boarding would have made him.

Not that he had no intention of stopping his usual activities. He would simply resume them after he’d returned the offending article to Sakuma.

*

Fukumoto observed the people boarding the train carefully. Considering the schedule, some of them might be planning to board the same ship he would, taking him back to Shanghai after having debriefed Lt. Col. Yuuki on his situation.

Indeed, he even managed to spot his newest target boarding; a high ranking marine who was said to be spilling both his money and state secrets to a Chinese mistress he’d acquired on a betting table. Said mistress was believed to be relaying his words to Russia.

Fukumoto continued to inconspicuously scan the crowd and the corner of his eyes caught two unusual things: someone near the train not moving, and his scarf.

The scarf was hardly unusual, but it looked too similar to the one he’d seen in Sakuma’s arms the day before. Fukumoto was trained to not immediately dismiss anything as a coincidence. He focused on the man wearing the scarf.

A dead man, as it were.

It couldn’t be a matter of a similar scarf. Not in this situation. Clearly, he was wearing Sakuma’s scarf, and the former Lieutenant had come to them because he’d been in contact with the man now boarding the station, to the point both must have met after Sakuma had left D-Agency.

It was mildly impressive that Sakuma had managed to lie convincingly to him. But more importantly, it brought about questions. Why had Sakuma asked them about Miyoshi when they were in contact? Was it a ruse to justify going to D-Agency for other reasons? He and Amari had talked privately and after Amari had brushed aside questions about it. Perhaps Amari had been expecting Sakuma’s arrival…

Or simply Sakuma wasn’t receiving answers from the man himself. That was also probable.

Fukumoto watched the man leave. His reasons for not boarding didn’t interest Fukumoto at all, but he did wonder why he nearly boarded.

Had he, too, been going to Shanghai? What would he do there, and had he been there before?

Well, Fukumoto wasn’t too worried. Now that he knew what to look out for, he’d find the man if he ever went to Shanghai again.

The city was vast but so was Fukumoto’s patience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Question: is there any ship with Hatano that you would dislike reading? Personally, I ship him with Jitsui but I have no issue with him being paired up with someone else. I don't want to alienate readers by mentioning a secondary ship someone loathes so if anyone has issues with a ship, please tell me. If there is no issue, I'll have Hatano be in love with Jitsui, but that will barely feature here, as the focus is Sakuma nd Miyoshi.
> 
> *Sata andagi are sweet deep fried buns of dough similar to doughnuts native to the Japanese prefecture of Okinawa.
> 
> *Despite the unofficial twitter jokes about Amari taking Emma back to D-Agency, I could hardly believe that would really happen. I imagine Lt. Col. Yuuki would not be pleased with such sentiment, so Amari would have to 'take care of' Frate and Emma before going back to D-Agency. What happened to Emma...we may or may not see, though I based Amari's end on some brief spoilers I read for his end in the novels. Even if said spoilers turn otu false, i'm now sticking to it.
> 
> *From what I gathered of the timeline, Fukumoto would be in Shanghai one year after Miyoshi's death, and in his episode he says he'll be staying in Shanghai for longer, so I believed he would still be around.
> 
> *I chose to focus on Stray first this time since the chapter before my holiday break was very short, in comparison to High Card. High Card might be out next week, but I might decide to join another ship week, which might delay it. We'll see.


	6. Chapter 6

“So you plan on visiting him?”

“I think I will, after I’ve visited the others. Will you come as well?”

“To which visit?”

“Both.”

“Unlike you, I have no disrespectful behavior to apologize for.”

“I do not-”

“And yet, you wish to see them. Surely you won’t tell me you missed their company?”

“...I concede that my parting behavior was lacking, and one at least, deserved more.”

“You refuse to fully admit defeat.”

“No more so than you. Why have you sought me out today? I hadn't expected to see you again so soon, or even at all. From your questions I understand this is about Sakuma, just not why.”

“Considering how our last conversation went, I assumed that if you ever returned here you might want to see him. I happen to have an item of his I’d like you to return to him.”

“What item? And how did it come into your hands?”

“A scarf, and how I have it is of little consequence.”

“I would disagree.”

“He forgot it.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Based on?”

“Intuition.”

“How low have you fallen.”

“Think that, if you must. Why not return it yourself?”

“I can’t be bothered to go all the way to the hole he sequestered himself away in for such a trivial thing, and I have other places I’d rather be.”

“Your usual activities?”

“You’ve made your opinion of them very clear, and hopefully I’ve made my complete disregard for it just as much.”

“You have. As for the scarf, send it by mail. Or pay someone to do it. If you want me to deliver it personally, there is some importance to this scarf.”

“And what of it, if there is?”

“I’ll take it from you, with one condition: if I go there and verify that he wanted you to deliver it to him personally, I won’t hand it to him.”

“That is juvenile of you.”

“Your complaint means you know that is what will happen. Childish my actions might be, but that’s better than being painful like yours.”

“You have no knowledge of me or him to decide what is or isn’t painful.”

“I can assume so from the little I’ve gleaned from you. You should stop-”

“Don’t presume to lecture.”

*

Along with the dog had come the report Sakuma had sought out. It...wasn’t too enlightening.

Frustrated, he had poured himself into reading it over and over again in case he had missed something. Most of the pages consisted of technical jargon, most of which Sakuma couldn’t understand. However, the report came with a conclusion that was simple enough, and yet only raised more questions.

For the third day in a roll, he stared at it, willing answers to appear where there had been none so far.

Frate barked excitedly, and brought him a stick to throw. Sitting on the balcony with the report in his lap, Sakuma sighed and threw the stick as far as he could, hoping it would take a while for the dog to come back. When Frate had happily run off, away from his line of sight, Sakuma tried to go back to concentrating on the report.

“He’s useless as a guard dog,” a familiar voice said, and Sakuma snapped his head up again to find Miyoshi making his way to him, Frate in tow.

“What?” Sakuma asked stupidly, too stupefied.

“Look,” Miyoshi said, then sat himself beside Sakuma, legs dangling off the balcony. Frate ran to his side, dropped the stick and stood looking at him, tail wagging happily.

“He didn’t bark to alert you that I was coming, and he’s like this towards a total stranger. Useless.”

“I...suppose,” Sakuma said with hesitation, regaining the ability to think. “Then again, I don’t think he was taught to be one. He should be good for companionship.”

“It certainly looks to be his only role.” Miyoshi made a motion with his hands and Frate immediately lay down, belly up. Miyoshi shook his head. “Silly creature.”

Despite the scorn in his tone, Miyoshi began patting the proffered belly, but Frate was too agitated to be content with just that, twisted and tried to lick Miyoshi’s hand.

“None of that,” Miyoshi sharply, to which Frate obeyed immediately. he looked downcast for a moment, then grabbed the stick again and presented it to him.

Miyoshi’s mouth curled in distaste but, surprisingly, he threw it.

“He’s similar to you,” Miyoshi stated, looking at the dog run off.

Sakuma groaned. “In what manner are you insulting me now?”

“Was it an insult?”

“You’re equating me to a dog you just called silly and useless.”

“Perhaps I only meant a similarity in appearance. You both have long unruly dark hair. And you are a military dog, are you not?”

 _And which of us do you like more?_ “Was.”

“You’ve done a splendid work,” Miyoshi said, surveilling the garden in front of them. “To think you’ve tamed it despite its advanced neglected state in only three days is impressive. Too much so, in fact. I assume you’ve had quite a lot of help.”

“I managed to lure my neighbors into helping out, even if it meant having to suffer their disapproval at the state the gardens were in.”

“They weren’t wrong. What did you do?”

“Nothing much. Most were curious about the dog.”

“It was only expected. I’ve looked around; a small town like this is used to mutts and dogs that can be of service in the farms. I doubt any here had ever seen a foreign purebred before, especially a western lapdog one.”

“Yes. At least they didn’t question the backstory for it.”

Frate came back. Miyoshi threw the stick again and cocked his head. “Let me see...a friend has been reassigned in the Army and asked that you take care of his dog.”

“Ah...yes. Exactly. Was it a bad excuse on my part?”

“No, it was the most plausible explanation. It happens a lot, they won’t give it another thought.”

Since Miyoshi would hardly lie to spare him, it meant the excuse Sakuma had thought was truly the best one. He was relieved.

In silence, he watched Miyoshi throw the stick a third time, and wondered how to broach the question on his mind.

There was also the matter of the report. It was clearly visible on his lap, yet Miyoshi had said nothing, which meant Sakuma would also have to mention it. But one thing at a time.

“Miyoshi, I’m not complaining or bothered by it, but I’m curious to know why you came back so soon. But you can come as-”

“Your scarf was too hideous to keep, so I wanted to return it as soon as I could. I tried to have someone else deliver it but they refused.”

That Miyoshi had tried to get away from seeing him again bothered Sakuma, even though he should have expected it. He tried focusing elsewhere. “I don’t see it on you.” Miyoshi was wearing a scarf; but it was dark blue.

“I didn’t want to be seen with it a second longer than necessary. Here.” Miyoshi reached inside his trench coat and pulled Sakuma’s scarf from inside, handing it to him.

Sakuma took it gingerly. It was warm. With Miyoshi watching, it was easy to refrain from doing anything truly ridiculous like trying to smell it.

“I only came to return that. Our poker game will have to wait until I feel like coming all the way here again.” He made a motion to stand up. Sakuma stopped him by grabbing his arm.

Miyoshi stilled, and looked at the arm in silent reproach.

“Won't you spend the night like always?”

“I don’t think so. You have other things you should be concentrating on, I believe. Like that report. And giving the dog a bath.” He brushed aside some dirt from the corner of his clothes, no doubt coming from Frate’s paws.

Sakuma let go of him and scratched his head. “I’ve _tried_ , but the bastard doesn’t like it and keeps slipping through my fingers whenever I try to grab him for it.”

Miyoshi flashed him a smile. “That sounds amusing to watch.”

“Would my humiliation at the hands of a small dog be reason enough to spend the night?”

“I suppose.”

Sakuma sighed. “I’ll go fill the bucket with water.”

*

It wasn’t fair, really. Sakuma had trained for years, but with Frate it wasn't a question of strength, and Sakuma had never been trained for speed. The dog was tiny and agile enough that it could slip through Sakuma’s arms and legs, or dodge his fingers, or simply outrun him.

Not to mention, the dog had a damn huge open garden he could run to, and he could slip under the balcony.

He tried offering Frate treats, but it eyed the bucket filled with water and refused.

 _Damn you_ , Sakuma thought, on his knees in front of the balcony, using a broom to try and remove Frate from underneath its protection.

That said, although he could feel his face burning red with embarrassment, Sakuma couldn’t find it in him to be honestly angry at the pest, because…

He glanced at where Miyoshi was sitting; he was now needing to use a hand to keep himself up, since he was shaking so much from laughing.

He memorized the sound, and Miyoshi’s face like that.

“Don't mock me,” Sakuma said, trying to look cross and curb his own smile and failing completely. “This is harder than it looks.”

“Our proud soldier,” Miyoshi chortled out, wiping tears from his eyes, “reduced to this, at the mercy of a dog. Someone should tell our enemies our army won’t stand a chance if they use tiny dogs.”

“Come here and grab him, if you think you can.”

“Are you sure your pride can afford to take another hit?”

“Look at my state, do you think I still have any?”

Miyoshi burst out laughing again, but this time subdued himself faster and, eyes still twinkling with amusement, said. “Very well then. Get away from him.”

Skeptical, Sakuma nonetheless did as he was told. To his complete surprise, Miyoshi unceremoniously jumped off the balcony and into the garden.

“You’re barefoot,” Sakuma pointed out.

“I noticed,” Miyoshi retorted, but without his usual bite. “Don’t worry, I’ll wash my feet before going back up.”

“I’m worried about you stepping on something, not that.”

“This garden has just been cleaned through, there’s little to worry about, and I don't plan to run around like you did. Now hush.”

He turned to towards the dog. “Frate!” he called, then whistled.

“I tried that,” Sakuma voiced feebly, and felt his next words dying inside when the traitorous dog came running from under his house.

 _You bastard_ , he thought, watching Frate run to Miyoshi and then be swooped up in his arms.

“It doesn’t count,” Sakuma complained as Miyoshi walked up to him with a smug look on his face and the dog safely secured in his grasp. “He only obeyed you because he didn’t realize what you’d do.”

“Or perhaps I’m simply good at being obeyed. But if you need to tell yourself that to feel better, by all means do so,” Miyoshi replied, then extended Frate to him. “Take him. This is the extent of my help.”

Knowing trying to tell Miyoshi to do more would be futile, Sakuma crouched and dunked Frate into the water without hesitation.

“You seemed to like Frate a little,” Sakuma said conversationally, over the indignant yelps of the dog.

“It’s a silly creature, as are most dogs. They don’t irritate me too much, usually.”

Sakuma smiled. “And that is your roundabout way to say you’re a dog person.”

Rather than deny it, Miyoshi shrugged. “Don’t misunderstand and assume I’d seek the company of one. Still, it’s better to have a creature with such ridiculous loyalty like a dog over the selfishness of a cat.”

”So...ah...you would hold a dog in contempt if it was no longer loyal?” Sakuma forgot to focus on his task and Frate nearly escaped his bath.

“I don’t think I’d give any dog sufficient attention to hold it in contempt. But theoretically…”

“That’s surprising.”

“Oh? Why?”

Sakuma ducked his head, pretending to concentrate on rinsing Frate to not look at Miyoshi.

“I know at least one military dog you found interesting when it bit its masters.”

His words were met with silence, but he stubbornly continued to look only down, now trying to dry the complaining dog.

Because of the din Frate was making, he didn’t hear Miyoshi closing the small distance between them, and started when when a hand fell on his shoulder.

“I said their loyalty was preferable to the self interest of cats, not that it was commendable,” Miyoshi said, leaned down so that he and Sakuma were almost eye level, and used a hand to grab Sakuma’s chin to push his head upwards

“Or maybe I thought you could do better than them,” Miyoshi added, smiling thinly.

Sakuma swallowed, still unsure if he wanted his next question answered.

“Then, what did you think of my resignation from D-Agency?” He’d been wondering if the long time it took for Miyoshi to reappear had been from disappointment in him.

The hand holding his chin let got. Miyoshi continued to smile, but Sakuma was sure it was only because Miyoshi willed it so; his eyes no longer seemed amused. They didn’t seem angry either, or any other emotion; he was still too good at hiding his thoughts.

“As for that,” he eventually said, straightening up, “it depends on-”

Frate, having gotten free of Sakuma’s towel while he was no longer paying attention, chose that moment to shake himself, throwing water everywhere. Sakuma was already half drenched from trying to bathe him, so the few droplets meant nothing, but Miyoshi made an indignant sound at the back of his throat and stepped back, frowning slightly.

“Your clothes are barely damp,” Sakuma said.

Miyoshi gave him a _look_.

“Well, you’re spending the night,” Sakuma added defensively. “If it doesn't dry off in the next minute you can borrow something of mine.”

“Try to learn to control him. Surely a neighbor should know how.”

“I think he’s too old for that.” Realizing what he’d just said, Sakuma sighed. “And now you’ll reply that some old dogs can learn new tricks.”

Miyoshi looked amused again. “No, I would never be so obviously cliche.”

He couldn’t refute that. Shrugging, Sakuma stood up again and looked down at the state of his own clothes; he was completely drenched from Frate’s splashing around. The thick wool of the kimono clung to his skin uncomfortably.

“It looks like I’m the one who will need to dry himself.”

“So it seems,” Miyoshi replied offhandedly. Sakuma glanced at him; Miyoshi was focusing on Frate, clearly wanting to keep his distance.

Before, he would have-

Sakuma shied away from that observation. “Shall we head inside?”

“I’ll dirty your whole house.”

Sakuma glanced at his dirty feet and shrugged. “And I’m going to leave a wet trail.”

“It’s easier to dry water than clean dirt. Well, it’s your decision, in the end. I can wait on the balcony for you to bring me clean water or I can soil the floor.”

“Or I could just carry you to the bathroom,” Sakuma said.

He didn’t suggest it for emotional reasons; although he truly did want to hold Miyoshi close, it wouldn’t be the same to have him for something so dispassionate. He did, however, want to know if Miyoshi had lost weight.

They’d trained in close combat enough times that Sakuma had found out Miyoshi was heavy despite his looks, due to the muscle mass he had but kept hidden.

Sakuma couldn’t be too sure, but from what he remembered compared to now, Miyoshi didn’t seem to have gained nor lost much weight. If he’d lost muscle...the easiest way to know would be to look. Since he wasn’t allowed that, he could always try through touch and holding him.

But there was no doubt Miyoshi would see through his suggestion, what was undecided is if he would give Sakuma that, at least.

Miyoshi was giving him another complicated look, then shook his head.

“If you carry me, you’ll just get my clothes truly wet.”

So much for that.

“Fine. Then follow me. It’s fine if some dirt gets on the floor, Frate has done worse the last few days. I have plenty of free time to clean it.”

“You must put down some rules for him,” Miyoshi insisted, sidestepping Sakuma and walking in front of him, setting the pace. “If you want him to stay at the yard and away from the interior of the house, you need to start doing so now.”

“I know, but I’m still trying to acquire a dog house, so until then I can’t have him sleeping on the ground outside at night.”

“How kind.”

It frustrated Sakuma that he could only see the back of Miyoshi’s head; the statement was said tonelessly, and he couldn’t tell if he was being mocked. He assumed so.

“It’s too chilly right now, I just don’t want-” He stopped, feeling something furry knock by his foot he walked.

For a moment, Sakuma nearly lost his balance, but all his training would have amounted to failure if he could trip from such a small thing.

He regained his footing, scowling at Frate, who was wagging his tail at him.

 _Keep this up and I_ will _leave you out in the cold._

“You could have fallen forward and thrown us both to the floor,” Miyoshi pointed out placidly, glancing at him from the corner of his eyes.

“I haven’t declined yet to the point I can’t still stand my ground this much.”

“I didn’t think you would have,” Miyoshi said, shrugged, and resumed walking again. “I was simply pointing out a wasted a chance.”

“What?” Sakuma asked, keeping up behind him.

“People have tried to pin me to the floor with weaker excuses.”

Sakuma nearly tripped again, this time on his own feet.

Before, he-

It wasn’t time to analyze it yet. Now, how did one retort to that?

“I’m sure you would have simply dodged.”

It was the wrong reply; he knew it as soon as the last syllable was out of his mouth.

Now at the door to the bathroom, Miyoshi paused and looked back him, smiling noncommittally.

“Ah, so you would have tried something if you thought I couldn’t avoid it?”

 _I don’t want anything with you_ , Sakuma nearly said in a moment of spite, wanting to at least dent Miyoshi’s pride a little.

“Maybe I would have if you didn’t want to avoid it,” Sakuma said quietly, finding he didn’t have the voice to say it loudly. “But if that were the case, you would have already taken the initiative.”

It was a confession lacking in subtlety and artifice. He couldn’t have made it more plain by stating it outright. But surely, at this point, Miyoshi had already understood where Sakuma’s feelings still lay.

“Some people are kind because they believe fate will reward them for their restraint and sacrifice,” Miyoshi said coolly after a moment, walking into the bathroom. “Don’t assume patience will change anything.”

Sakuma blinked then followed him inside, chuckling bitterly as he watched Miyoshi begin to wash his feet. “So, I’ve finally confirmed it.”

“What is it you think you’ve confirmed?”

Sakuma shed his drenched clothing unceremoniously on the floor and grabbed a towel. He didn’t bother to see if Miyoshi was looking him over or not. Now that he’d finally made his position clear, Sakuma knew he’d find nothing in his gaze.

“I was never stupid enough to think you’d ever reciprocate. But I foolishly let myself wonder if, considering how much you liked to imply...that maybe your interest in me extended beyond your verbal toying. Now you’ve confirmed there was nothing of the sort.”

“...Does that make it easier? Thinking things would not have advanced even if I had not left?”

“Is that why you kept away from so long?” He was squeezing the towel so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Because you think that low of me? You said people have tried to push you down before. Is that what kind of man I am to you? Did you avoid me, and refuse to stay for too long because you think I’ll-”

“ _Enough._ ” Miyoshi’s sharp tone, along with a single raised hand, commanded complete obedience and Sakuma hated that he did it.

Miyoshi leaned on the wall and sighed. “You’re speaking as if I’m so defenseless that I need to run away from you, as I cannot protect myself otherwise. I despise being so belittled. However, in this case I’ll forgive it since it didn’t seem to be your intent.”

Sakuma bristled. “You-”

“Likewise, it wasn’t my intention to attack you. That said, let’s cease this discussion. There is nowhere this can go.”

Sakuma deflated slightly. “Fine.”

With a nod, Miyoshi walked passed him but paused on the doorway.

“It’s good that you’ve been keeping yourself in shape,” he said to Sakuma’s back, then left.

Sighing once again, Sakuma slid to the floor and hid his face in his hand, swearing under his breath. He wanted to vent by punching the wall, but Miyoshi would hear.

How did it come to this? He should have said nothing, and left his feelings clear but unsaid between them. Hearing Miyoshi confirm he had nothing, not even a shred of desire for him hurt whatever modicum of pride he still had.

Miyoshi used to toy with him, from the very start. Long intense looks, lingering unnecessary touches and suggestive speech...of all the spies Miyoshi had been the one to most play up his sensuality when with Sakuma.

And now he’d all but stopped, but not because, it turned out, Miyoshi no longer wanted anything, but because apparently from the start teasing was all he’d had in mind.

As for what Miyoshi had assumed of him...even worse.

More importantly right now, however, was...

_“People have tried to pin me to the floor with weaker excuses.”_

He wasn’t surprised that that had happened; what intrigued him was that Miyoshi had said it at all.

*

_“There’s one thing I don’t understand,” Sakuma begins, watching Miyoshi shuffle the cards for another round._

_Miyoshi chuckles, beginning to hand the cards out. “Only one? You haven’t been with us that long, you should have more questions.”_

_Sakuma grabs a cigarette. “Maybe I do, but I only feel like voicing one right now.”_

_“Can you afford to distract yourself so right now?”_

_“I won the last round.”_

_“Barely so. And I’m still in the lead. Well, if you still manage to tie with me, I might even reward you.”_

_Sakuma swallows, he hates how attractive he’s starting to find Miyoshi’s slyness to be._

_“Such as?” he asks carefully, offering his lighter to Miyoshi._

_Miyoshi accepts, leans forward so Sakuma can light the cigarette directly from his mouth, then settles back again before replying._

_“Maybe I’ll buy you dinner.”_

_Such an innocuous reward…it disappoints him, a little._

_“Fine. I’ll do the same, if you win.”_

_“Are you sure, Lieutenant? The probability of that is very high and I have expensive tastes.”_

_“I don’t mind spending my money now and then...if the company makes it worth it.”_

_Miyoshi blinks and laughs. “Does that mean if you are to pay I’ll have to work to make it worth your money? Or…” his smile is almost predatory now. “Have I already become worth it?”_

_Sakuma nearly chokes on his cigarette, but manages to save face, scowling._

_“The former, obviously. Shall we start?”_

_“Certainly. But what were you thinking of asking?”_

_“You’re a narcissist.”_

_“That is a statement not a question. And I sense disapproval; but why shouldn’t I think highly of myself?”_

_“I was just getting to my point. You are one, and yet...you don’t speak about yourself. The others rarely do, but you are the most conspicuous case, as you’ve never given me even one crumb of your past.”_

_“Ah, I see. I suppose you weren’t told, since your circumstances are different than ours. Let’s see, for starters, don’t think the others were doing you any favors. What they told you, and what I could have told you, is likely not what you’re seeking to know.”_

_“I don’t understand.”_

_“What’s my name, Lieutenant?”_

_“Miyo-_ oh _. Do you mean your real name? I don’t know that.”_

_“My real name...well, that’s a discussion for another time,” Miyoshi says quietly, almost to himself, before continuing at a normal level. “You watched the end of our training, you learned some of our ways. I think you know the answer, but have forgotten it.”_

_“...Don’t tell me…”_

_“Yes?”_

_“I was aware that you were given fake names and fake backgrounds during training. Are you telling me the others have been speaking as if those backstories were true?”_

_“What did you think such backgrounds were for?”_

_“Outsiders, of course. And practice, at the start. By now surely there’s no need to hold yourselves to that.”_

_“It’s pointless to use a fake name if you tell people your real background. They will still be able to trace you to the truth. And we must always practice.”_

_“But can you even form bonds with each other if nothing is real?”_

_“_ Must _we form bonds? And do bonds demand knowledge of the past? Have you never befriended someone unless they spilled their life’s story to you first?”_

_“If you put it like that...I suppose maybe friendship doesn’t require much, sometimes. However...can someone develop deeper feelings for someone they know nothing about? But considering your-our line of work, that might be for the best.”_

_“So it seems.”_

_“What’s yours? Miyoshi’s, I mean.”_

_“Well now, are you going to be satisfied with that?”_

_“I’ll never recognize a hint to your actual past if I don’t know the fake one.”_

_“You won’t know regardless, I’m not in the habit of making mistakes. But if you insist, I-”_

*

Sakuma pinched the bridge of his nose. Nowhere in Miyoshi’s story had there been a part about people trying to pin him down. Then again, it wasn’t the sort of thing you mentioned to people.

Even so, no matter how immersed Miyoshi could be in a character, he couldn’t imagine him going so far as to mention fake information about himself. he’d never done that before. Though things had changed…

What other options were there? That Miyoshi had, for once, offered true information on his past or...or that it had occurred during his D-Agency missions. Yes, that had to be it.

The memory of the conversation stirred something. The feeling that something important lingered there, a clue to Miyoshi’s thinking that might help understand the present.

His attempts at reflecting were interrupted by the door opening again and clothes being thrown at him. He grabbed them to find it was another of his kimonos, and glanced at where Miyoshi stood in the doorway.

“You didn’t grab anything to change into,” he pointed out, then left again before Sakuma could even decide if he should be thanking him or not.

Sighing wearily yet again, Sakuma decided to postpone all musings and focus on getting out of his bathroom.

*

Leaving it a few minutes later, Sakuma made a beeline to where he kept his cigarettes and only afterwards sought out Miyoshi.

“I need a smoke. Want to join me?”

At the question, Miyoshi looked up from the book he was reading and raised an eyebrow.

“I recall telling you to not smoke.”

 _Ah, so that wasn’t a momentary tease_. “What’s the issue with it?”

“The smoke.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me why?”

“That’s right.”

“Fine. I’ll smoke outside. The wind will carry it away from the house.”

He passed by Frate now asleep; completely tired.

He walked to the balcony and winced as the chilly wind whipped at him; it was colder than he had expected. he didn’t even want to imagine how bad the actual winter would be.

He should go back inside and grab something warmer, but Sakuma felt a childish stubbornness to show any more weakness to Miyoshi.

Instead, he sat down, partially closing the door and leaning against it, and tried to light up the cigarette despite the strong wind.

“You seem intent on catching a cold today,” he heard Miyoshi say from the other side of the door and a blanket was pushed through the space still open.

“...Thanks,” Sakuma said, wondering if this was Miyoshi’s way of trying to mend things.

He felt something lean into his back, from the inside, and realized Miyoshi had just sat exactly opposite him.

“So the smoke isn’t a problem there?”

“No, the air currents are keeping any smell away from here.”

“Miyoshi…”

“Yes?”

“Have you been visiting me because it was amusing to see how long it took until I supposedly snapped?” He wasn’t going to like the answer, but he needed to know.

There was a minute of silence from Miyoshi before he finally replied.

“How will you know if I’m telling you the truth?”

“It’s not as if I can ever tell if you are. But usually you prefer to avoid outright lying. Either way, I just have to hope you aren’t tricking me.”

“...It wasn’t the reason why I first visited.”

Sakuma tried to not clenched his cigarette too tightly. “So you really-”

“I wasn’t finished. After that, I did wonder how long it would take before my random visits and the lack of closure they gave you became too much. However, that wasn’t the reason I kept coming back.”

“Can I risk asking why you do, then?”

“Because I feel like it.”

Against all common sense, Sakuma found himself smiling. It meant Miyoshi did find some enjoyment in his company that wasn’t the thought of watching him lose it. the situation wasn’t as broken as he’d thought.

“One more thing,” Miyoshi continued. “Even if I do think you’ll eventually tire of this and demand more, be it answers or something else, that never bothered me.”

“Because you can protect yourself quite well.”

“That too, but mostly because I never took you for the type to disregard a ‘no’.”

Sakuma forgot to breathe out for a moment, and then began coughing out the smoke that stayed too long in his body

“Have you forgotten how to properly smoke?” He heard Miyoshi ask in clear amusement.

“Something like that,” Sakuma said hoarsely, putting himself back together. “I didn’t have the chance to say this earlier, but you’re wrong.”

“About?”

“You said ‘Don’t assume patience will change anything’, but I never for a moment thought patience _would_. I’ve never had any delusions about that. So from hereon, don’t assume I’ve changed my mind about your visits because of our conversation today. So if you’re bored again, or just wanting to prove a point about my endurance, come as much and for as long as you want.”

“You should...no, nevermind. Whether I decide to come back or not has yet to be seen, though my decision won’t be based on this discussion. And there is at least one game of poker we need to play.”

Feeling lighter, Sakuma glanced at his now nearly done cigarette and chuckled. “This might have been the strangest rejection I’ve ever faced.”

“Hm, as a homosexual in the Army, your affairs might be interesting to hear about.”

“Maybe I’ll tell you in one of your next visits. I...ah...” if he and Miyoshi hadn’t been facing away from each other, he might not have had the courage to continue. “I don’t suppose there’s any point in asking you to please not ridicule me over my feelings?”

This time, rather than just hear, he could feel Miyoshi laughing; his body shaking from the other side of the thin partition separating them.

“No, of course there’s no point in asking _that_. But perhaps there’s not that much to tease you about; it’s not that surprising a thing.”

“Narcissist,” Sakuma grumbled without any venom to it, then threw the last vestiges of his cigarette on the balcony and stepped on it with his foot. “I’m done, but I think I’ll wait another minute for the smell to wear off.”

“I’ll make dinner, then. Thankfully you seem to have more on your pantry this time, even though you didn’t expect me back so soon. Was it for your neighbors?”

“Yes, in case they decided to stay over longer. I’m afraid since I didn’t think you’d come so soon I don’t have what I need to make sata andagi like promised.”

“That’s not a problem. I think I’ll make ramen.”

*

“I’m assuming you’ve read the report,” Miyoshi said as they sat down for dinner and Sakuma fought down the excitement of finally having that subject broached.

“That’s right.”

“What did you think of it?”

“It’s barely any help at all.”

“What were you expecting?”

“I was hoping it would say, among other things, if you were on that train or not. There is a list of the passengers but that doesn’t mean you actually boarded it. The whole thing looks like a normal report. I assume in case it fell into the wrong hands. But if so, then there’s a hidden code on it I haven’t seen, or the truly important details were relayed elsewhere.”

“I saw it earlier; there is no code. So you haven’t managed to glean anything from it?”

“I wouldn’t say that, either. I don’t think the train crash was an accident, at least not completely one.”

“Oh, what makes you say that?”

“The report’s conclusion was that the signal failure happened because a wire snapped. And, from the looks of it it wasn’t cut in one go, but slowly unraveled in the space of a month. Finally, it also states that the crash wasn’t a certain end; had the conductors noticed a mistake in the signal, they could have avoided a collision.”

“Which gives credence to believing it was simply a natural but dismal occurrence, yet you think otherwise.”

“Someone could have slowly cut it down in the span of a month to make it look accidental.”

“That’s not impossible, but less likely than the other conclusion, what basis do you have for it?”

Sakuma frowned but remained undaunted; Miyoshi was shooting down his beliefs, but not mocking him for it, which made it seem like he was simply testing the strength of Sakuma’s reasoning and not actually being against it.

“For one thing, there are too many coincidences in this case. Train crashes are not _that_ common, and spies are rare as it is, the probability of one happening to be in a train crash is small. If that wasn’t enough, from what I heard in D-Agency, a Col. Wolff was suspecting your identity, and the train crashed on his jurisdiction. That seems too much for a simple unlucky incident.”

“So you’re assuming Col. Wolff made a month long plan to cut the cables?”

“I suppose that’s where this theory is headed. After all, _you_ can’t have caused it. D-Agency demands that you take no lives, so you would never stage a train crash. As for the month long planning...it’s not impossible; the report came with the train schedules for both trains involved. The one you took only happened once a day, so it would be easy to target it.”

“You’re belittling me again.”

“What? How?”

“You’re saying I failed to make myself inconspicuous enough that someone was able to foresee my schedule.”

Sakuma glanced at him worriedly. Miyoshi still didn’t look irritated.

“Maybe it wasn’t your fault,”  Sakuma replied cautiously. “You were meeting with your network, were you not? Even if you could alter your schedule, I imagine those you met could not-”

“My being compromised is far worse than not arriving for a meeting.”

Sakuma scratched his hair with frustration; the way Miyoshi was regarding him, he wasn’t wrong just simply not seeing the correct argument yet. “Well, maybe you didn’t know about the cable, much less the plan to interceded the train. You might have realized someone was suspicious of you, but since your cover had no flaws, so no reason to forgo a trip you must have done with some frequency. In fact, it would be suspicious if you disappeared suddenly, it would mean you were aware someone was onto you.“

Miyoshi was smiling thinly. “That is a plausible sequence of events.”

Glad he’d come to the right conclusion -or one close to it- Sakuma let out a breath and added, “That is... _if_ you boarded the train at all.”

“That seems to be what you’re most interested in knowing.”

“Isn’t it only natural? Were you hurt, or were you not? How did you escape, how was that body put in the crash...these are the most important questions, and the ones I have no clue towards.”

“One thing at a time, and perhaps you’ll one day find out. Not too long ago you weren’t even aware there was a body double. I do have a question, however; if the crash wasn’t accidental...what was the intent with it?”

“The intent?”

“Hm, according to what you said, the report states that the failure could have resulted in something less lethal, such as the trains stopping. Did it also say the odds of each possible outcome?”

“Ah, I believe crashing or stopping were almost fifty-fifty. It relied on too many factors, including humans, to decide on one or the other.”

“So what does that mean for the intention? Did they assume a result that didn’t occur, or one that did occur, or didn't care which came about?”

“Is that...relevant?”

Finally, Miyoshi looked mildly crossed. “I won’t explain it to you that much.” He then went back to focusing on his now quickly cooling dinner, which Sakuma took as a sign the discussion was over. Well, he’d gotten more than he’d expected by voicing his ideas out loud, so it hadn’t been a waste.

*

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Can you really resist those eyes?”

“Quite easily. _No_.”

Sakuma tried to refrain from laughing, but failed. “Well, you know I can’t make him obey me. If you can’t make Frate leave your side, I can’t either.”

“Put him outside the room, or better yet, outside the house. I’m not sleeping with him next to me.”

“He’s going to cry.”

“I have no trouble sleeping amidst noise, and he has to learn some manners eventually.”

“Come now, see how pitiful he looks.”

Miyoshi raised one eyebrow. “If looking like a kicked dog was enough to get in the futon with me, _you_ would already have gotten lucky.”

Sakuma winced. “I asked for that response didn’t I?”

Miyoshi relaxed his stance, smiling. “You practically handed it to me on a platter.”

Sakuma sighed. “Fine.” he grabbed Frate. “Come on boy, looks like you were also rejected.”

He saw Miyoshi shake his head from the corner of his eye, and took Frate outside the room, sliding the door shut in his face.

“I hope he doesn’t put a whole through the shoji,” Sakuma mumbled, wincing at the sounds of Frate’s paws scraping on paper as he demanded to be let in again.

“If he does, it will teach you a lesson about neglecting his training.”

Sakuma decided to ignore the remark, instead turning off the lights and settling down on his futon.

“Before you go to sleep, there’s one more thing I need to say,” Miyoshi’s voice said from the direction of where his futon lay.

“What is it?”

“You might recall that I mentioned trying to have someone else deliver your scarf.”

“I do.”

“That person is an old acquaintance of ours, and he’ll likely visit you soon.”

That was unexpected; Sakuma had too few acquaintances in common with Miyoshi, it had to be someone from D-Agency, though the way Miyoshi had spoken about them was strange. “Who is it? And why?”

“If I told you it would completely ruin what’s left of the surprise. As for why, as them yourself.”

“Is there a reason why you told me this?”

“Two. Number one, I told them to avoid giving you answers. But if they decide to disobey, I’ll know.”

“And then you won’t come back. Fine, I won’t let them say much. At the most I’ll ask for a hint or two on the train.”

“That’s acceptable. My other reason is...don’t misunderstand. You’ll likely see it as a slight when you realize the difference in what you both know. Don’t”

“...What am I supposed to see it as?”

“It doesn’t matter. Now go to sleep.”

Sakuma doubted he could have, if not for his background.

*

Leaving just before dawn, he breathed in some of the cold, sharp, outside air. He waited, but no pain came.

 _Good_. He considered putting on gloves and using his hands to cover his nose and mouth, to even slightly warm the air he had to breathe, but quickly discarded that in favor of verifying his current endurance.

Actual winter in the region would be a nuisance, which is why he had no plans to visit Sakuma during that time. And on that matter…

He inwardly sighed.

He’d always known the man wasn’t the sharpest among them, especially with the disparity in training, but to think he’d be obtuse enough to surmise _Miyoshi_ had wanted nothing but to tease him back then...

He’d have been angry at the idiocy if it hadn’t fit so well in the narrative he’d decided to go with now.

Even so, that being rejected hadn’t changed how he treated him, nor his insistence that he come back...it made it difficult to remain too aloof.

Perhaps distance wasn’t the ideal path. After all, he’d chosen it mainly because he knew Sakuma would come to regret it soon enough. Maybe he should do what he wanted and damn what the other would feel eventually. Selfishness had always proved more rewarding to him.

Well, he’d have to think it through carefully before deciding to change stance. And before that he’d have to see if Sakuma’s next visitor really kept his mouth shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay, hopefully the chapter had enough going on to somewhat make up for it. On the other hand, I hope the development didn't feel rushed.
> 
> The train part is my biggest issue with accepting Miyoshi's death. He just happened to be on the wrong place in the wrong time in the one situation where someone had been after him, and Col. Wolff was on the scene pretty quickly. It felt too suspicious to be able to accept it as a spy being unlucky.
> 
> Shoji: In traditional Japanese architecture, a shōji (障子?) is a door, window or room divider consisting of translucent paper over a frame of wood which holds together a lattice of wood or bamboo.
> 
> The visitor might be a tad easy to guess, but that might be because originally they would appear this chapter. But the chapter turned out longer than I thought it would, so I so no reason to delay it further to write their appearance.


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